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BELLE  KEARNEY. 


A 

SLAVEHOLDER’S 

DAUGHTER 


BY 

BELLE  KEARNEY 


Fourth  Edition 

(FULL  Y ILL  USTRA  TED ) 


St.  Louis  Christian  Advocate  Co. 

(W.  B.  PALMORE,  Mgr.) 

1414  Locust  St.,  St.  Louis,  Mo. 


Copyright,  1900, 

by 

THE 

Hbb cy  presa 


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BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTE 


Miss  Belle  Kearney , the  writer  of  this  book , belongs 
to  an  old , conservative , Southern  family.  She  was  born 
on  a plantation  near  Vernon , Mississippi,  and  was  edu- 
cated in  her  native  state . A few  years  were  spent  in 
the  gay  society  of  the  times,  but  the  changed  social 
and  economic  conditions  that  followed  the  civil  war  led 
her  to  a nobler,  more  use  fid  life.  When  quite  young 
she  became  a teacher  and  for  six  years  was  ranked 
among  the  successful  educators.  In  1889  she  was  called 
to  enter  the  lecture  field  and  has  since  risen  to  be  one 
of  the  most  logical,  brilliant  and  popular  speakers  upon 
the  American  platform.  Her  public  life  has  made  her 
an  extensive  traveler;  carrying  her  into  Canada, 
Europe,  and  throughout  the  United  States  from 
Alaska  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  In  the  years  of  varied 
experiences  that  have  come  to  Miss  Kearney,  she  has 
made  a deep  study  of  humanity  and  the  problems  of 
life;  this  has  caused  her  to  be  looked  upon  as  one  of 
the  leaders  of  thought  in  the  nation. 

THE  PUBLISHERS 


I wait  for  my  story — the  birds  cannot  sing  it , 

Not  one  as  he  sits  on  the  tree ; 

The  bells  cannot  ring  it,  but  long  years,  O bring  it! 
Such  as  I wish  it  to  be. 


— Jean  Ingelow, 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

I.  THE  OLD  SOUTH I 

II.  CHANGED  CONDITIONS 10 

III.  READJUSTMENT 20 

IV.  THE  YOUNG  LADIES*  ACADEMY 33 

V.  STORMS  OF  THE  SOUL 43 

VI.  A NEGRO  SERMON 53 

VII.  A HIGHER  LIFE 66 

VIII.  THE  PUBLIC  SCHOOL  MA’AM 74 

IX.  EDUCATIONAL  MATTERS 84 

X.  THE  SOUTHERN  PROBLEM ....  QO 

XI.  EVOLUTION  OF  SOUTHERN  WOMEN 107 

XII.  THE  TRANSFORMATION 125 

XIII.  MISS  FRANCES  E.  WILLARD 131 

XIV.  THE  NEW  CAREER 1 39 

XV.  MY  FIRST  SPEECH I49 

XVI.  AWAY  DOWN  SOUTH  IN  DIXIE.  1 55 

XVII.  HOW  DE  CAP’N  COME  THU 171 

XVIII.  A SOUTHERN  PILGRIMAGE 1 82 

XIX.  UPON  THE  HEIGHTS I9I 

XX.  ACROSS  THE  SEA 200 

XXI.  ON  THE  CONTINENT 208 

XXII.  THE  SORROW 21 8 

, XXIII.  THE  FAR  WEST  AND  ALASKA 225 

XXIV.  THE  LATTER  DAY  SAINTS 234 

' XXV.  IN  COLORADO 245 

XXVI.  THE  OLD  PLANTATION  HOME 2$2 

XXVII.  THE  LAST  FAREWELL 258 

XXVIII.  THE  HEAVENLY  BIRTHDAY 264 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

The  Old  Plantation  Home 4 

“Ugh!  I an’t  see'd  no  silver  myself !” 13 

“Crying,  sister?”  he  asked,  coolly 24 

“ Yer’ll  neber  see  ’im  gwine  inter  his  house  ter  his  wife  an’ 

little  chilluns  when  de  day’s  wuk’s  done” 59 

A Mississippi  Negro  Baptizing 61 

As  in  Ante-bellum  Days 86 

A Typical  Negro  Cabin  of  the  South 92 

Cotton  Picking  as  Now  Done 99 

Weighing  Cotton  in  the  Field 105 

A Scene  on  the  Bayou  Teche 172 

Loading  up  for  a Trip  to  New  Orleans 179 

John  Wesley’s  Oak,  Frederica,  St.  Simons,  Georgia 221 

“ Now,  my  bredderin,  a partin’  an’  a farewell  word  ” 256 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  OLD  SOUTH 

A land  without  ruins  is  a land  without  memories; — a land 
without  memories  is  a land  without  history.  A land  that 
wears  a laurel  crown  may  be  fair  to  see;  but  twine  a few 
sad  cypress  leaves  around  the  brow  of  any  land,  and  be  that 
land  barren  and  bleak,  it  becomes  lovely  in  its  consecrated 
coronet  of  sorrow,  and  it  wins  the  sympathy  of  the  heart  and 
of  history.  Crowns  of  roses  fade — crowns  of  thorns  endure. 
Calvaries  and  crucifixions  take  the  deepest  hold  on  humanity. 
— Anon. 

The  South  was  in  its  glory.  It  was  very  rich  and 
very  proud.  Its  wealth  consisted  of  slaves  and  planta- 
tions. Its  pride  was  masterful  from  a consciousness  of 
power.  The  customs  of  society  retained  the  color  of 
older  European  civilization,  although  the  affairs  of 
state  were  conducted  according  to  the  ideals  of  a radical 
democracy.  Its  social  structure  was  simple,  homogen- 
eous. Three  castes  existed.  The  slaveholders  consti- 
tuted the  gentry.  Generally,  those  of  this  class  served 
in  the  legislatures,  studied  law,  medicine,  theology ; con- 

i 


2 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


ducted  extensive  mercantile  enterprises  and  controlled 
their  private  finances, — seeking  recreation  in  hunting, 
traveling,  entertaining,  and  in  the  cultivation  of  the 
elegant  pursuits  that  most  pleased  their  particular  turn 
of  mind. 

The  life  of  the  great  landowners  and  slaveholders 
resembled  that  of  the  old  feudal  lords.  The  overseer 
stood  between  the  master  and  the  slave  in  matters  of 
detail.  He  conducted  the  local  business  of  the  planta- 
tion, managed  the  negroes,  and  was  the  possessor  of 
almost  unlimited  power  when  the  less  serious-minded 
planter  preferred  his  pleasures  to  his  duties.  The  mid- 
dle class  carried  on  the  concerns  of  commerce  and  the 
trades  incident  to  a vast  agricultural  area,  and  were  the 
men  of  affairs  in  its  churches  and  municipalities.  The 
third  class  constituted  a yeomanry, — small  farmers  who, 
for  the  most  part,  preempted  homesteads  on  the  poorer 
lands,  sometimes  owning  a few  slaves,  and  who  lived 
in  a world  of  their  own, — the  westward  drift  from  the 
Atlantic  seaboard  and  the  Blue  Ridge  mountains,  with 
an  inherited  tone  of  life  that  defied  change  until  the 
public  school,  of  post-bellum  origin,  began  its  syste- 
matic inroads  on  the  new  generation. 

Ladies  of  wealth  and  position  were  surrounded  by  re- 
finements and  luxury.  They  had  their  maids  and  coach- 
men and  a retinue  of  other  servants.  There  was  a time- 
honored  social  routine  from  which  they  seldom  varied ; 
a decorous  exchange  of  visits,  elaborate  dinings  and 
other  interchanges  of  dignified  courtesies.  Every  en- 
tertainment was  punctilious,  strongly  suggestive  of  co- 
lonial gatherings.  No  young  woman  went  out  un- 


The  Old  South 


3 


chaperoned.  Marriage  was  the  ultimatum  of  her 
existence  and  was  planned  for  from  the  cradle  by  inter- 
ested relatives.  When  the  holy  estate  had  been  entered, 
women  glided  gracefully  into  the  position  of  the  most 
honored  occupant  of  the  home  and  kept  their  trust 
faithfully,  making  devoted  wives  and  worshipful 
mothers. 

The  popular  delusion  is  that  the  ante-bellum  South- 
ern woman,  like  Christ's  lilies,  “ toiled  not.”  Though 
surrounded  by  the  conditions  for  idleness  she  was  not 
indolent  after  she  became  the  head  of  her  own  house- 
hold. Every  woman  sewed,  often  making  her  own 
dresses;  the  clothing  of  all  the  slaves  on  a plantation 
was  cut  and  made  by  negro  seamstresses  under  her  di- 
rect supervision,  even  the  heavy  coats  of  the  men ; she 
ministered  personally  to  them  in  cases  of  sickness,  fre- 
quently maintaining  a well  managed  hospital  under  her 
sole  care.  She  was  a most  skillful  housekeeper,  though 
she  did  none  of  the  work  with  her  own  hands,  and  her 
children  grew  up  around  her  knees ; however,  the  black 
“ mammy  ” relieved  her  of  the  actual  drudgery  of  child- 
worry. 

The  women  of  the  South,  in  the  main,  realized  their 
obligations  and  met  them  with  reflective  efficiency.  Not- 
withstanding their  apparent  freedom  from  responsibil- 
ity and  their  outward  lightness  of  character,  there  was 
the  deepest  undertone  of  religious  enthusiasm  pervad- 
ing their  natures;  and ‘this  saving  grace  has  clung  to 
the  Southerners  through  all  their  changing  fortunes. 
They  are  the  most  devout  people  in  this  nation  to-day. 
Among  them  is  found  less  infidelity, — fewer  “ isms  ” 


4 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


have  crept  into  their  orthodoxy.  As  they  have  re- 
mained the  most  purely  Anglo-Saxon,  so  have  they 
continued  the  most  reverent.  The  army  of  governesses 
and  public  school  teachers  was  made  up  of  gentle- 
women of  reduced  means,  the  large  middle  class,  and  of 
women  from  the  North.  Teaching,  sewing  and  keep- 
ing boarders  were  about  the  only  occupations  open  to 
women  of  that  day  by  which  they  could  obtain  a liveli- 
hood. 

Mississippi,  like  her  sister  states,  was  at  the  height 
of  prosperity.  The  wealthier  classes  were  congregated 
in  the  counties  bordering  on  the  great  river,  and  its  trib- 
utaries, and  in  the  rich  prairie  belt  of  the  north-east 
section.  Madison  was  one  of  the  leading  counties 
Around  the  little  village  of  Vernon,  located  in  its  south- 
western portion,  there  stretched  vast  landed  estates 
owned  by  ten  or  twelve  families.  On  each  plantation 
was  an  elegant  residence  for  the  master's  household, 
and  a cluster  of  small  cabins  known  as  the  “ quarters  ” 
where  the  negroes  lived.  On  one  of  these  plantations 
my  father  established  himself  after  his  marriage.  It 
came  to  him  with  his  slaves  as  an  inheritance.  The 
majority  of  his  neighbors  were  his  relatives,  the  rest 
were  personal  friends.  These  constituted  a congenial 
and  delightful  society.  At  the  beginning  of  each  sum- 
mer the  families  migrated  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  to  the 
mountains  of  Tennessee  and  Virginia,  or  to  the  North- 
ern states  and  Canada.  The  ennui  of  the  winter  sea- 
son was  avoided  by  visits  to  New  Orleans  and  other 
Southern  cities. 

After  father  had  completed  his  college  course  he  went 


The  Old  Plantation  Home.  Seepage 


The  Old  South 


5 


to  Lexington,  Kentucky,  to  study  law.  On  arriving  he 
began  to  argue  with  himself  that  it  was  absurd  to  spend 
months  in  gaining  knowledge  of  a profession  which  he 
did  not  expect  to  follow,  as  he  should  always  have  his 
slaves  and  hundreds  of  acres  of  land  to  provide  him 
with  an  income.  After  traveling  several  weeks  he  re- 
turned to  Mississippi,  married  mother,  who  was  hand- 
somely provided  with  property  like  his  own,  and  settled 
down  to  the  complacent  life  of  a planter.  Although 
born  to  that  vocation,  it  was  very  soon  manifest  that 
his  heart  was  not  in  it.  He  shut  himself  up  with  his 
books,  became  a close  student  of  politics,  and  in  1858 
was  elected  to  the  legislature,  since  which  time  he  has 
been  vitally  interested  in  the  political  life  of  his  state 
and  country. 

Father  was  a fine  type  of  the  Southern  gentleman  of 
the  old  regime ; in  person,  tall,  slender,  well-proportioned, 
blue-eyed,  brown-haired,  with  delicate,  clear  cut  fea- 
tures, and  noble  expression ; cultured,  high-bred, 
courtly;  full  of  an  intense  family  pride — brave,  gener- 
ous, chivalrous. 

The  election  of  Mr.  Lincoln  in  i860  to  the  lofty  posi- 
tion of  president  of  the  United  States  was  regarded  by 
the  Southern  people  as  foreshadowing  the  destruction 
of  slavery.  The  senators  from  South  Carolina  were 
so  impressed  with  this  conviction  that  they  almost  im- 
mediately withdrew  from  the  national  Capital.  Legis- 
latures were  called  in  extraordinary  session  by  the  gov- 
ernors of  the  states  in  the  far  South  for  the  purpose 
of  devising  means  of  protection  from  the  troubles  which 
they  presumed  would  soon  follow.  A convention  as- 


6 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


sembled  in  Jackson,  Mississippi,  on  the  7th  of  January, 
1861,  and  in  two  days  an  act  was  passed  called:  “ An 
Ordinance  to  Dissolve  the  Union  between  the  State  of 
Mississippi  and  Other  United  States  with  Her  under 
the  Compact  Entitled,  ‘ The  Constitution  of  the  United 
States  of  America/  ” In  short,  Mississippi  seceded,  in 
an  hour  freighted  with  exultant  confidence,  with  tears, 
with  a sense  of  solemn  responsibility.  Her  national  sen- 
ators, acting  on  command  of  the  state,  retired  at  once 
from  Washington.  Almost  every  state  in  the  South 
pursued  a course  nearly  identical  with  that  of  Missis- 
sippi. 

The  proposed  amendment  to  the  Constitution  of  the 
United  States,  declaring  that  states  would  be  protected 
perpetually  from  the  interference  of  the  general  gov- 
ernment in  the  maintenance  of  slavery,  was  defeated 
in  the  Senate.  A few  months  after  seven  Southern 
states  held  conventions  and  adopted  their  famous  “ Pro- 
visional Constitution  for  the  Confederate  States  of 
America.”  Belligerent  preparations  began,  followed  by 
the  bombardment  of  Fort  Sumter,  which  brought  forth 
the  proclamation  of  President  Lincoln  calling  for  volun- 
teer troops  to  suppress  the  insurrection.  After  that 
came  the  civil  war  which  raged  four  years, — unsur- 
passed in  history  for  deeds  of  valor,  heroic  endurance, 
terrible  suffering  and  sweeping  desolation. 

Father  was  in  full  sympathy  with  the  leaders  of  the 
Confederacy  in  the  cause  they  espoused.  As  soon  as 
the  first  breath  of  impending  strife  reached  him  he  be- 
gan to  struggle  with  military  tactics,  and  was  among 
the  first  to  volunteer.  He  entered  the  service  as  first 


The  Old  South 


7 


lieutenant  of  the  Eighteenth  Mississippi  regiment,  and 
was  promoted  after  the  battle  of  Leesburg  to  the  posi- 
tion of  lieutenant  colonel.  In  the  spring  of  1862  he 
came  home  on  furlough  from  Virginia.  Soon  after  re- 
turning to  his  command,  he  was  stricken  with  an  ill- 
ness of  such  a serious  nature  that  he  was  compelled 
again  to  retire  to  the  plantation  in  Mississippi.  Com- 
modore Farragut  was  attacking  Vicksburg.  The  gov- 
ernor of  Mississippi  called  for  volunteers  in  its  defense. 
Father  had  sufficiently  recovered  to  answer  and,  going 
at  once  to  the  City  of  Bluffs,  witnessed  the  first  bom- 
bardment. When  General  Sherman  made  his  subse- 
quent movement  against  Vicksburg,  father  again  vol- 
unteered his  services. 

A requisition  had  been  made  by  the  Confederate  gov- 
ernment on  Southern  planters  to  furnish  slaves  to  build 
fortifications  around  Vicksburg.  They  were  sent  in 
vast  numbers  to  do  this  work  which  had  hitherto  been 
done  only  by  soldiers.  Grandfather  owned  an  old  negro 
man,  by  the  name  of  Moody,  who  did  nothing  but  make 
a daily  tour  of  the  different  residences  of  the  Kearney 
relatives  in  the  Vernon  neighborhood  to  inquire  into  the 
state  of  health  of  the  occupants,  report  to  grandmother, 
and  in  the  afternoon  to  drive  up  the  cows.  In  his  mili- 
tary life  father  carried  a servant  with  him.  On  going  to 
Vicksburg  the  second  time  he  took  Moody  along  to  al- 
Jow  the  old  man  to  see  his  sons  who  were  working  on 
the  fortifications,  as  well  as  to  play  the  role  of  attendant. 
It  was  the  last  day  of  the  year  1862.  My  father  and  his 
kinsman,  James  Andrews,  a young  Confederate  officer, 
were  on  the  train  going  over  to  Vicksburg  with  hearts 


8 A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

on  fire  and  restless  with  eagerness  to  be  in  the  midst 
of  the  war.  It  was  a glorious  winter  afternoon,  ripe 
with  sunshine  and  balmy  with  the  breath  of  Southern 
winds. 

“ What  a beautiful  ride  we  are  having,  cousin 
Walter ! ” Just  as  the  words  were  uttered  the  engine 
was  thrown  violently  from  the  track.  A horrible  rail- 
road wreck  followed,  mangling  and  killing  the  soldiers, 
with  whom  the  cars  were  crowded,  as  completely  as  a, 
broadside  from  the  enemy’s  gunboats  could  have  done. 
Old  Moody  escaped  unhurt.  In  wild  despair  he  car- 
ried the  terrible  tidings  back  to  the  home  of  his  master. 
Bursting  into  grandmother’s  room  he  exclaimed : 

“ Lor,  mistis!  Marse  Jimmie  done  killed,  and  marse 
Walter  nigh  onto  daid ! ” 

As  soon  as  the  news  reached  mother  she  ordered  her 
carriage  and  drove  as  quickly  as  possible  through  the 
country  to  the  little  town  of  Edwards  near  which 
Moody  said  the  wreck  had  occurred,  and  where  father 
had  been  removed.  There  she  found  him,  with  spine 
injured,  three  ribs  broken,  right  hand  and  arm  crushed 
and  raving  in  delirium.  After  many  wretched  weeks 
consciousness  returned  to  the  maimed  soldier;  one  by 
one  he  picked  up  the  tangled  threads  of  his  broken  life ; 
little  by  little  the  tide  of  strength  swept  in,  and  he  was 
carried  tenderly  back  to  his  plantation  home. 

Every  overture  made  to  the  Southern  states  by  Presi- 
dent Lincoln,  backed  by  the  national  government,  for 
the  cessation  of  armed  hostilities  was  rejected  with  firm- 
ness. In  consequence,  the  Emancipation  Proclamation 
was  issued  the  ist  of  January,  1863.  The  6th  of  March 


The  Old  South 


9 


following,  on  the  plantation  at  Vernon,  my  eyes  caught 
their  first  glimpse  of  the  light  of  life, — just  two  months 
and  six  days  too  late  for  me  to  be  a Constitutional  slave- 
holder. 


CHAPTER  II 


CHANGED  CONDITIONS 

Our  life  is  always  deeper  than  we  know,  is  always  more 
divine  than  it  seems,  and  hence  we  are  able  to  survive  degrada- 
tions and  despairs  which  otherwise  must  have  engulfed  us. — 
Henry  James. 

Two  more  years  passed — hideous  in  bloody  strife. 
The  Southern  armies,  decimated  by  battle  and  sick- 
ness, were  almost  destroyed.  The  Federal  forces,  over- 
whelming in  numbers,  victorious,  jubilant,  forced  their 
way  into  every  Southern  state. 

Mississippi  was  held  by  them  from  the  Tennessee 
border  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  Robert  E.  Lee,  with  his 
pitiful  band  of  starving  men  numbering  under  25,000, 
was  entrenched  at  Petersburg  and  Richmond.  Then 
came  the  evacuation,  the  unwavering  pursuit  of  Grant 
and  Sheridan  with  their  solid  lines  150,000  strong, 
the  surrender;  175,000  starved  and  ragged  Confeder- 
ate soldiers,  all  told,  laid  down  their  arms  at  the  feet 
of  a conquering  legion  of  1,000,000  men; — and  the  two 
armies  that  had  faced  each  other  unflinchingly  for  four 
long  years  melted  into  civilians  with  mutual  respect  and 
sympathy.  Slavery  was  abolished,  and  the  Southern 
states  were  conquered  at  a cost  to  the  United  States  of 
three  thousand  million  dollars  and  a sacrifice  of  nearly 
six  hundred  thousand  lives. 

10 


Changed  Conditions  1 1 

Immediately  after  the  surrender  the  governor  of  Mis- 
sissippi was  informed  that  neither  the  State  govern- 
ment organized  since  1861,  nor  the  officers  appointed 
under  that  government,  nor  their  official  acts  were  rec- 
ognized by  the  President  of  the  United  States.  A com- 
mand was  given  to  deliver  into  the  possession  of  the 
Union  armies  the  public  archives  and  every  form  of 
State  property.  It  was  done,  and  Mississippi  stood 
dismantled  and  dishonored.  Every  vestige  of  civil  rule 
was  thrust  from  sight.  There  was  not  an  executive, 
not  a judiciary;  the  right  of  trial  by  jury  was  not  al- 
lowed, nor  the  writ  of  habeas  corpus ; there  was  noth- 
ing that  bore  the  semblance  of  government  except  mar- 
tial law  which  was  administered  by  provost  marshals, 
military  commissions  and  freedmen’s  bureaus.  The 
negroes  had  been  taken  from  the  fields  by  thousands 
and  turned  into  Union  soldiers.  Those  who  were  left 
were  free,  and  defied  the  control  of  their  old  masters,  as 
well  as  made  it  difficult  for  officers  to  bring  them  under 
authority.  Anarchy  triumphed,  grinning,  red-handed. 
Desperadoes  infested  the  land.  Women  were  afraid  to 
leave  their  front  doors  without  being  armed  or  accom- 
panied by  a male  escort.  Wagons  were  stopped  on  the 
public  highway  and  the  cotton  they  were  carrying  to 
market  to  supply  the  wants  of  needy  families,  was  forci- 
bly taken.  Crime  swept  like  a prairie  fire  over  com- 
munities. The  constant  violations  of  law  were  passed 
by  unheeded,  unpunished,  or  the  penalties  were  too  fee- 
ble to  effect  fear  or  prevent  recurrence.  Industry  was 
dead.  “ The  hands  ” went  to  the  fields  with  umbrellas 
over  their  heads  and  resplendent  in  yellow  buckskin 


I 2 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

cavalry  gloves;  they  began  work  when  they  pleased 
and  quit  when  it  suited  them.  At  the  same  time  the 
planter  was  furnishing  the  land,  paying  the  taxes  and 
insurance,  providing  lodging,  implements,  work-stock, 
seed,  and  giving  wages,  or  a certain  proportion  of  the 
crops,  stipulated  for  by  contract.  He  was  himself  in 
the  throes  of  readjustment.  His  precedents  were  gone ; 
he  was  as  uncertain,  and  almost  as  helpless  as  the  black 
man  in  the  midst  of  his  new  and  untried  conditions. 
The  land  which  had  been  celebrated  for  its  prosperity 
was  the  habitation  of  wrecks  of  human  beings  and  ruins 
of  fortunes.  All  Southern  hearts  were  smitten  with 
desolation  and  gripped  with  the  horror  of  despair. 
Lovely  homes  had  been  destroyed.  Thousands  of  per- 
sons were  on  the  verge  of  starvation,  and  many  others 
had  fled  to  foreign  lands,  in  voluntary  exile.  All  this 
and  far  more — unutterable — the  struggle  to  maintain 
slavery  cost  the  South. 

The  Federal  government,  in  its  emancipation  act, 
had  set  afloat  an  army  of  aged  and  infirm  negroes  who 
were  perfectly  helpless,  becoming  paupers  at  once  on 
receiving  their  freedom.  So  in  addition  to  other  bur- 
dens the  white  people  were  forced,  in  their  extremity, 
to  continue  to  care  for  these,  as  when  they  were  slaves. 

As  soon  as  father  was  physically  strong  enough  to 
perform  the  trying  duty,  he  went  to  the  negro  quarters 
on  his  plantation,  assembled  his  slaves,  and  announced 
to  them  that  they  were  free.  There  was  no  wild  shout 
of  joy  or  other  demonstration  of  gladness.  The  deep- 
est gloom  prevailed  in  their  ranks  and  an  expression  of 
mournful  bewilderment  settled  upon  their  dusky  faces. 


. \ 


Ugh!  / ain’t  see’d  no  silver  my  self!”  See  page  13. 


Changed  Conditions  1 3 

They  did  not  understand  that  strange,  sweet  word — 
freedom.  Poor  things ! the  English  language  had 
never  brought  to  them  the  faintest  definition  of  liberty 
— that  most  glorious  gift  of  God.  They  were  stunned. 
What  were  they  to  do  Where  should  they  go  ? What 
would  become  of  them?  Who  would  feed  and  clothe 
them,  and  care  for  them  in  sickness,  when  they  went  out 
from  “ marster  " free  ? 

Noticing  their  consternation  and  dumb  sorrow,  fa- 
ther told  them  that  they  might  stay  and  work  for  him 
as  hired  hands.  Some  of  them  did,  but  the  majority 
drifted  away,  and  finally  all. 

The  record  of  the  devotion  of  the  slaves  to  their 
owners  is  deeply  touching. 

During  the  war  a band  of  Federal  soldiers  filled 
mother's  yard,  front  and  back.  Sally,  one  of  the  plan- 
tation servants,  stood  calmly  surveying  them,  with 
hands  peacefully  clasped  behind  her  back,  while  her 
turbaned  head-handkerchief  illuminated  the  scene.  An 
officer  stalked  up  to  her  and  demanded  to  know  where 
the  silver  was  hidden.  With  a lofty  air  of  disdain  Sally 
exclaimed : “ Silver ! Bless  Gord,  mister ! yo'  doan't 
know  dem  white  folks ! ” pointing  in  the  direction  of 
“ the  house,"  as  the  master's  dwelling  was  always  des- 
ignated in  slave  parlance,  and  where  at  that  time  mother 
and  her  little  children  sat  trembling  with  fear.  “ Dey 
am  de  stingiest  white  folks  yo'  ebber  sot  yo'  two  eyes  on. 
Silver ! dey  ain't  nebber  had  no  silver  in  dere  lives ! 
Got  a fine  house  ? Sho  'nufif ; but  powerful  pore  inside ! 
Ugh ! I ain't  see'd  no  silver  myself ! " Walking  off  with 
infinite  disgust,  she  muttered  between  her  teeth : “ Dat 


i4 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


Yankee  man  sho’  am  foolish  if  he  thinks  Fse  gwine  ter 
tell  him  whar  dat  silver  am ! ” The  officer  and  his  men 
moved  away  convinced  by  her  contempt  and  earnest- 
ness. Within  ten  feet  of  where  Sally  stood  the  silver 
lay  securely  buried.  She  had  helped  to  put  it  there. 

A raid  of  the  Union  army  was  expected  through 
Madison  county.  Father  gave  his  sword  to  Aunt 
Dicey,  one  of  our  most  devoted  allies,  and  told  her  to 
hide  it,  explaining  the  reason.  No  more  was  thought 
of  it  until  General  Hardee,  a Confederate  commander, 
came  to  the  neighborhood  to  review  the  troops  stationed 
near  Vernon,  and  who,  with  his  staff,  spent  the  previous 
night  at  our  home.  The  next  morning  one  of  the  of- 
ficers asked  father  to  lend  him  a sword,  as  his  own  was 
lost  and  he  did  not  wish  to  appear  on  inspection  without 
one.  Dicey  was  called  to  bring  the  hidden  weapon. 
She  marched  in,  bearing  it  triumphant.  The  scabbard 
was  rotten  and  the  blade  covered  with  rust.  The  old 
woman  had  buried  it. 

A year  after  the  slaves  were  given  their  freedom  they 
had  a great  meeting  at  one  of  their  churches  near  Ver- 
non. A delegation  waited  on  father  to  invite  him  to 
attend.  Having  always  been  a friend  of  the  black  race, 
he  accepted  their  courtesy,  although  ignorant  of  the 
nature  of  the  gathering.  On  arriving  at  the  appointed 
place,  he  found  a vast  crowd  assembled:  among  them 
was  a body  of  negro  cavalry,  charging  to  and  fro  with 
becoming  military  hauteur.  Father  was  escorted  to  the 
platform  where  the  orators  of  the  occasion  were  seated. 
These  consisted  of  several  Republican  white  men  and 
one  or  two  black  ones.  Speaker  after  speaker  was  pre- 


Changed  Conditions  15 

sented  to  the  audience  and  made  flaming  orations  on  the 
subject  of  emancipation.  It  dawned  on  father,  by  de- 
grees, that  this  was  the  anniversary  of  the  negroes 
freedom  and  that  he  was  to  participate  in  its  celebration. 
At  last  he  was  introduced  without  a word  of  explana- 
tion to  him  or  to  the  black  masses  in  the  foreground. 
Fortunately  he  had  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  meet- 
ing with  enthusiasm.  With  face  aglow  with  emotion  of 
the  holiest  character  and  voice  strong  with  a manly 
and  sincere  sympathy,  he  said : “ My  friends,  I honor 
you  for  rejoicing  over  the  acquisition  of  your  freedom. 
If  I had  been  born  a slave  and  the  shackles  had  been 
broken  from  my  hands  I would  make  every  day  a time 
of  exultation,  and  every  night  upon  bended  knees  would 
I thank  God  for  my  liberty.” 

The  Constitutional  Convention  of  1865,  composed  of 
Southern  gentlemen  and  their  sympathizers,  met  and  a 
universal  rehabilitation  began. 

A horror  of  negro  suffrage  was  expressed  and  the 
convention  refused  to  ratify  the  Fourteenth  Amend- 
ment to  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States.  How- 
ever, the  Ordinance  of  Secession  was  declared  null  and 
void ; slavery  was  acknowledged  to  be  dead,  and  proper 
adjustment  of  laws  was  made. 

Then  came  the  days  of  reconstruction  with  their  at- 
tendant terrors.  Mississippi  was  the  first  to  conform 
to  the  new  order.  Other  states  did  not  hold  constitu- 
tional conventions  until  weeks  after  hers  had  adjourned. 
In  the  course  of  the  three  years  following  that  event 
the  Republican  party  was  dominant  in  Mississippi. 

By  order  of  Congress  a constitutional  convention 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


16 

was  called  which  met  in  Jackson  on  the  7th  day  of  Jan- 
uary, 1868.  This  body  was  a motley  assemblage.  It 
has  gone  down  in  history  as  the  “ Black  and  Tan 
Convention.”  It  was  composed  largely  of  negroes, 
many  of  them  wholly  illiterate,  direct  from  the  cotton 
fields,  but  belonging  principally  to  the  class  of  barbers, 
hotel  waiters  and  livery  stable  hirelings.  With  the 
exception  of  a small  sprinkling  of  Mississippi  Demo- 
crats the  other  members  were  Republican  white  men 
from  the  North ; most  of  whom  had  failed  to  command 
the  respect  of  the  people  from  whose  midst  they  had 
come, — and  who  were  held  in  complete  disrepute  by  the 
Southerners.  The  entire  expense  of  the  convention 
has  been  safely  estimated  at  not  less  than  a quarter  of  a 
million  dollars.  A special  tax,  real  and  personal,  was 
voted  to  be  levied  upon  the  state,  to  pay  the  expenses  of 
the  convention. 

“ The  present  and  all  previous  constitutions  of  the 
state  of  Mississippi  ” were  “ declared  to  be  repealed 
and  annulled.”  Enfranchising  the  negro  was  ap- 
proved and  every  effort  was  made  to  obliterate  the  color 
line  in  social,  civil  and  political  life.  Thousands  of 
white  citizens  of  the  state  had  been  disfranchised  by 
provisions  of  the  39th  and  40th  Congresses ; and  now 
the  convention  of  1868  imposed  an  additional  oath  of 
affirmation  on  the  voters  before  they  would  be  permitted 
to  express  their  principles  by  the  ballot. 

The  taxes  levied  were  exorbitant,  apportioned  on  as- 
sessments made  at  the  will  of  corrupt  officials.  Land 
was  valued  at  $100  per  acre,  which  would  not  have 
brought  $20  if  offered  in  the  market.  In  consequence, 


Changed  Conditions  17 

millions  of  dollars  worth  of  property  was  published 
under  tax  sales,  which  was  virtual  confiscation.  The 
United  States  government  had  placed  a tax  on  all  cot- 
ton raised  in  Mississippi.  This  tax  was  as  high  as  $10 
a bale.  Afterward  it  was  disallowed,  and  an  effort  was 
made  to  secure  the  refunding  of  the  tax  money,  which 
was  not  accomplished.  Imagine  the  struggle  for  bread 
when  the  people  paid  a tax  of  $10  per  500  pounds  on 
the  product  which  constituted  their  chief  means  of  sup- 
port! 

The  Republicans  were  in  the  majority  in  the  follow- 
ing legislature.  They  occupied  all  the  state  offices  and 
sent  their  representatives  to  Congress.  Then  began, 
in  full  force,  the  reign  of  the  “ carpet-bagger  ” and  the 
“ scalawag.”* 

B.  K.  Bruce,  the  Mississippi  negro  who  afterwards 
occupied  so  many  prominent  positions  under  the  Fed- 
eral government,  was  elected  United  States  senator. 
The  lieutenant-governor  was  a negro;  also  the  state 
superintendent  of  education,  and  other  important  offices 
were  filled  by  colored  men.  Sometimes  every  member 
of  the  board  of  supervisors  was  a negro.  Under  this 
dark-tinted  regime  a monument  was  erected  in  Jack- 
son  by  the  legislature  to  the  memory  of  a negro  man, 
who  had  filled  the  office  of  secretary  of  state. 

The  Republican  legislature  of  1870  ratified  the  Four- 


• * A carpet-bagger  was  a Northerner  who  had  come  into  the 
South  with  all  his  possessions  in  a carpet-bag ; in  plain  Eng- 
lish, a penniless  adventurer.  A scalawag  was  a Southerner 
who  deserted  his  political  affiliations  for  the  spoils  of  the  Re- 
publican party. 


i8 


A Slaveholder's  Daughter 


teenth  and  Fifteenth  Amendments  to  the  Constitution 
of  the  United  States. 

Adelbert  Ames,  of  Massachusetts,  a son-in-law  of 
General  Ben  Butler,  was  appointed  military  governor  of 
Mississippi  in  1868.  His  administration  was  charac- 
terized by  bitter  hostility  to  the  whites,  which  cul- 
minated in  race  riots.  The  intolerable  acts  of  the  gov- 
ernor sealed  his  doom.  Twenty-one  articles  of  im- 
peachment were  preferred  against  him  when  the  legisla- 
ture of  1876  met  and  all  of  them  were  sustained.  He 
sent  in  his  resignation  as  governor  of  Mississippi,  which 
was  accepted,  and  the  case  dismissed. 

Articles  of  impeachment  were  also  filed  against  the 
negro  state  superintendent  of  education  and  the  negro 
lieutenant-governor.  The  former  resigned  at  once  and 
left  the  state;  the  latter  stood  trial  and  was  found 
guilty. 

The  struggle  for  white  supremacy  had  lasted  ten 
years.  The  entering  wedge  for  Democratic  sovereignty 
had  been  made  in  the  autumn  of  1875  when,  at  the 
election,  a compromise  had  been  effected  in  the  way 
of  a division  of  offices  between  the  Republicans  and 
the  Democrats.  Regardless  of  the  turn  affairs  had 
taken  the  energy  of  the  carpet-baggers  and  scalawags 
fagged  not  a moment.  Night  meetings  were  held  with 
the  colored  men,  in  which  they  were  urged  to  stand  by 
the  Republican  party  as  the  one  that  had  brought  them 
freedom,  and  were  terrified  with  the  threat  of  being 
forced  back  into  slavery  if  they  voted  otherwise.  With 
a few  rare  exceptions  the  negroes  defined  freedom  as 
the  liberty  to  be  idle.  For  years  they  entertained  the 


Changed  Conditions  1 9 

idea  that  the  lands  of  the  South  were  to  be  divided 
among  them — “ forty  acres  of  land  and  a mule,  the  gift 
of  the  Government/' — and  they  rested  in  that  hope. 
Hordes  of  them  wandered  through  the  country,  beating 
drums  and  sowing  seeds  of  discontent  among  those  who 
were  peaceably  inclined  and  given  to  habits  of  industry. 
The  masses  of  them  were  destitute. 

The  election  of  1877  was  carried  by  the  Democrats. 
There  was  no  organized  opposition,  but  every  negro 
knew  that  he  was  safer  in  his  cotton-patch  than  any- 
where else.  Every  man  felt  that  he  who  would  longer 
submit  to  the  rule  of  an  inferior  race  deserved  to  be  a 
slave.  Anglo-Saxon  blood,  North  or  South,  is  the 
blood  of  free  men. 

In  the  enfranchisement  of  the  negro  the  Federal  gov- 
ernment laid  a heavy  curse  on  the  black  race.  License 
is  not  liberty,  nor  the  ballot  a blessing  unless  it  has  be- 
come the  expression  of  a moral  principle;  and  this 
cannot  be  until  men  have  been  trained  to  the  holy  du- 
ties of  citizenship,  and  have  caught  the  spirit  of  an  in- 
telligent loyalty  to  all  that  for  which  a righteous  gov- 
ernment is  the  standard-bearer. 


CHAPTER  III 


READJUSTMENT 

The  human  soul  is  like  a bird  born  in  a cage.  Nothing 
can  deprive  it  of  its  natural  longings,  or  obliterate  the  mys- 
terious remembrance  of  its  heritage. — Epes  Sargent. 

It  seemed  impossible  for  father  and  mother  to  realize 
the  terrible  change  that  had  come  into  their  fortunes. 
They  continued  to  live  extravagantly  for  the  first  few 
years  after  the  war,  keeping  the  same  number  of  house- 
servants  and  giving  them  exorbitant  wages ; also  to  the 
field-hands  who  were  hired  by  the  month.  After  awhile 
the  last  dollar  was  spent  and  the  last  servant  dismissed. 
The  land  that  had  yielded  bountiful  harvests  worked  by 
the  slaves,  now  brought  a pittance  rented  to  the  freed- 
men.  The  struggle  for  bread  became  hard  both  for  the 
laborer  and  the  land-owner.  Affairs  were  growing  des- 
perate. Then  mortgages  were  unhappily  entered  into, 
and  the  inevitable  failure  to  meet  them  was  followed 
by  foreclosure.  Of  all  our  former  possessions  only  four 
hundred  acres  of  land,  around  the  old  home,  were  left 
us. 

Among  the  many  destructive  agencies  to  the  attain- 
ment of  independence  were  the  lien  laws  instituted  in 
the  South  at  the  close  of  the  civil  war.  Before  a spool 
of  thread  or  a pound  of  flour  could  be  bought  on  credit 


20 


Readjustment  21 

the  purchaser  had  to  give  a lien  on  available  property — 
cattle,  horses  or  land.  Failing  these  he  mortgaged  his 
unplanted  crop  for  supplies  during  the  year.  The  rate 
of  interest  as  well  as  the  merchant's  profits  on  goods 
was  enormous,  usually  as  high  as  ioo  or  200  per  cent. 
At  the  end  of  the  year  the  buyer  found  himself  in  debt 
or  escaped  with  only  the  clothes  on  his  back.  Although 
the  premiums  on  money  have  increased,  the  lien  laws 
are  still  in  force  and  are  a prime  cause  of  retarded  pros- 
perity in  the  cotton  states.  One  afternoon  a young 
brother  of  mine  met  an  old  colored  man  returning  from 
town,  where  he  had  been  settling  up  the  year's  account 
with  his  merchant.  Hearing  a half  suppressed  soliloquy 
on  the  part  of  the  negro,  the  boy  asked : “ What  is  the 
trouble,  4 Uncle  ' Willis?" 

Without  looking  up  he  exclaimed  disconsolately : “ I 
knewed  it ! I knewed  it ! " 

“Knew  what,  ‘ Uncle  ' Willis?" 

“ Knewed  I warn't  gwine  ter  pay  fo'  dat  mule.  I 
knewed  it  all  erlong ! " 

Alas  ! for  “ Uncle  " Willis,  and  alas ! for  thousands 
of  others  who  yet  know  that  a penniless  state  will  be  the 
result  of  their  hard  year's  labor. 

In  the  midst  of  the  social  and  financial  convulsions 
that  surrounded  us  in  those  sad  days,  father  stood  fac- 
ing the  ruin  about  him  with  right  hand  hopelessly  in- 
jured and  depressed  continually  by  a frail  constitution. 
- Mother's  health  was  wretched  ; she  was  a martyr  to  neu- 
ralgia. Worst  of  all,  neither  of  them  knew  how  to 
work,  nor  how  to  manage  so  as  to  make  a dollar,  nor 
how  to  keep  it  after  it  was  gained.  Children  were  be- 


22 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


ing  added  to  the  family  and  sorrows  multiplied.  My 
oldest  brother,  a boy  of  brilliant  promise,  was  taken 
ill  at  boarding  school  and  died  in  his  fifteenth  year,  soon 
after  returning  home.  While  my  only  sister  was  at  col- 
lege in  Oxford,  Mississippi,  she  formed  a romantic  at- 
tachment for  a young  University  student,  whom  she 
married  when  she  was  but  sixteen.  Although  just  five 
years  old  at  the  time,  the  memory  of  that  wedding  was 
indelibly  impressed  upon  my  mind:  the  guests,  the 
handsome  bridegroom,  my  lovely  sister  in  her  bridal 
robes,  my  head  aching,  and  eyes  swollen  from  much 
weeping,  the  good-byes,  the  roll  of  the  carriage  down 
the  long  avenue  of  cedars  to  the  gate,  the  after-loneliness 
and  gloom  of  the  house.  Just  four  years  later,  when  I 
returned  from  school,  one  afternoon,  father  folded  me  in 
his  arms  and  sobbing  carried  me  to  the  parlor  where 
the  still  form  of  my  sister  was  lying  in  her  coffin ; — the 
child-wife,  just  twenty  years  old,  and  the  mother  of 
two  little  daughters ! Very  soon  these  went  away  from 
us  with  their  young  father  to  establish  another  home. 

The  death  of  my  sister  left  me  the  oldest  child  in  the 
family.  There  were  three  small  brothers.  The  iron 
entered  my  soul  very  early  in  this  great  battle  we  call 
“ life.,,  I looked  about  me  with  wide-open  eyes,  full 
of  comprehension  and  a heart  full  of  bitterness. 
Mother's  father,  William  Owens,  who  had  been  a Mis- 
sissippi planter,  died  when  she  was  a child  of  ten. 
When  only  three,  her  mother,  a native  Kentuckian  of 
French  descent,  passed  into  the  shadow-land.  Mother 
was  reared  by  a married  sister  who  kept  her  in  board- 
ing schools  from  an  early  age.  She  attended  an  acad- 


Readjustment  23 

emy  in  Nashville  and  spent  her  last  school-days  at  the 
Episcopal  Institute  for  young  ladies  in  Columbia,  Tenn. 
Returning  to  Mississippi,  she  married  father  when  she 
was  twenty  years  old. 

Mother  was  endowed  with  a strong  mind  and  added 
to  her  mental  acquirement  by  constant  reading  of  the 
best  literature.  Throughout  her  book-filled  life  she  has 
followed  national  issues  and  the  world's  history  with 
keen  penetration.  She  was  ever  a devoted  Methodist 
and  a profound  Bible  student,  a staunch  friend,  an  ador- 
ing mother,  unselfish,  independent  in  thought  and 
action,  energetic  in  spirit,  swift  in  movement,  brief  but 
positive  in  speech,  unswerving  in  purpose.  Her  rich 
brunette  beauty  made  her  a belle  in  girlhood.  Though 
fortified  by  a nature  broad  and  noble  enough  to  endure 
bravely  many  severe  strokes  of  unhappy  destiny,  yet 
the  loss  of  her  fortune  was  a blow  from  which  she 
never  recovered.  She  has  lived  in  retirement,  never  but 
once  in  thirty-four  years  leaving  the  seclusion  of  her 
home  except  to  attend  church,  to  minister  to  the  sick 
or  to  pay  an  occasional  visit  to  friends  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. Like  thousands  of  other  heroic  women  of  the 
South,  however,  she  did  not  fold  her  hands  in  idleness 
nor  weep  her  eyes  blind  over  the  inexorable,  but,  with 
admirable  courage,  went  to  work.  Silk  dresses  were 
displaced  by  cotton  ones,  the  parlor  was  deserted  for 
the  kitchen,  the  piano  for  the  sewing  machine.  The 
grind  was  upon  us.  We  were  too  pressed  in  finances 
to  hire  anything  done  but  laundry-work  and  wood-cut- 
ting. 

When  nine  years  old  I put  my  small  “ shoulders  to  the 


24 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


wheel  ” to  ease  mother’s  burdens.  For  four  years  I 
worked  systematically  and  attended  school  regularly. 
Mother’s  frequent  attacks  of  neuralgia  usually  pros- 
trated her  for  a week.  On  such  occasions  the  cooking 
and  house-work  fell  to  my  lot  in  addition  to  other  duties. 
If  a low  moan  issued  from  mother’s  room  early  in  the 
morning  my  heart  sank,  for  it  boded  no  good  to  me. 
Hurrying  from  bed  a rush  would  be  made  for  our  old 
kitchen,  twenty  yards  from  the  dwelling,  very  spacious 
and  very  uncomfortable,  where  efforts  were  begun  at 
once  to  build  a fire  in  the  stove  preparatory  to  cooking. 
In  winter,  blowing  my  hands  to  keep  them  from  getting 
numb ; in  summer  sweltering  with  the  heat  and  fuming 
with  disgust. 

Affairs  went  on  in  this  way  for  two  years.  One 
morning  I was  trying  to  get  breakfast  in  a hurry,  as  it 
was  late,  an  unusual  amount  of  work  was  on  hand,  and 
my  dress  had  to  be  changed  for  school.  In  attempting 
to  turn  some  batter-cakes  the  hot  lard  splashed  on  my 
fingers,  burning  them  cruelly.  With  a loud  cry,  I sat 
down  on  the  floor,  folded  my  hands  above  my  head  and 
rocked  to  and  fro  in  an  agony  of  body  and  spirit.  Sud- 
denly a light  step  entered  the  door.  There  stood  my 
oldest  brother,  a little  fellow  just  two  years  my  junior, 
with  an  expression  of  pity  strongly  tinctured  with  scorn 
playing  about  his  half-smiling  lips.  “ Crying,  sister?  ” 
he  asked  coolly ; “ Oh,  yes  ! ” was  sobbed  in  reply ; “ I’ve 
burnt  my  fingers  and  ruined  the  batter-cakes,  and  it’s 
so  late, — and  there’s  so  much  work  to  be  done  and  get 
to  school.  O,  how  dreadful  it  is  to  have  to  cook ! ” and 
the  swaying  was  begun  again  in  despairing  misery. 


Crying  sister?”  he  asked  coolly.  See  pa%e  24 . 


Readjustment  25 

“ Sister ! " how  solemn  the  blue  eyes  looked,  how  dig- 
nified the  boyish  figure.  “Sister!” — with  increasing 
emphasis — “ I have  no  respect  for  a girl  who  is  eleven 
years  old  and  doesn't  know  how  to  cook.  If  you  will 
go  into  the  house  I will  get  breakfast  and  take  it  into 
the  dining  room."  Frantic  with  delight,  but  maintain- 
ing due  outward  composure,  “ Well,"  I answered, 
“ suppose  we  make  a bargain?  If  you  will  cook  every 
time  mother  gets  sick  I will  tell  you  one  of  Dickens' 
stories  or  one  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's  novels  as  regularly 
as  the  nights  roll  around."  “ All  right ! I’ll  do  it ! " 
was  the  ready  assent ; — and  the  compact  was  sealed.  It 
was  never  broken. 

As  the  days  went  by  and  mother's  health  failed  to  im- 
prove, and  my  work  failed  correspondingly  to  grow 
lighter,  the  younger  boys  were  pressed  into  service  by 
similar  agreements.  My  second  brother  was  to  wash 
the  dishes  and  help  with  outdoor  labor.  The  youngest 
was  to  do  the  sweeping  as  far  as  his  stature  and 
strength  permitted.  This  condition  of  domestic  engi- 
neering continued  until  the  time  came  for  me  to  go  away 
to  school.  Every  night  after  our  lessons  were  learned 
for  the  next  day,  we  gathered  around  the  hearth  in 
mother's  room  and  I told  the  boys  the  promised  stories ; 
going  into  smallest  details ; dwelling  on  peculiarities  of 
characters,  painting  minutely  their  environment,  wax- 
ing humorous  or  pathetic  according  to  the  situation ; all 
the  while  watching  closely  the  faces  of  my  auditors. 
There  they  would  sit  for  hours,  my  little  brothers,  lis- 
tening intently  to  every  word  that  was  uttered ; at  times 
clapping  their  chubby  hands  with  intense  enjoyment,  or 


26 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


doubling  up  their  small  bodies  in  convulsive  laughter, 
or  holding  their  lips  together  with  fore-finger  and 
thumb  to  prevent  too  boisterous  an  explosion  of  hilarity ; 
at  other  times  allowing  the  great  tears  to  roll  down 
their  cheeks,  or  with  bowed  heads  sobbing  aloud.  My 
precious  little  comrades!  They  constituted  my  first 
audience,  and  it  was  the  most  sympathetic  and  inspiring 
that  has  ever  greeted  me  in  all  the  after  years. 

One  day  the  announcement  was  made  that  a baby 
had  been  born  in  our  home,  who  was  to  be  our  brother. 
The  feeling  of  indignation  that  swelled  into  my  inmost 
being  surpasses  description.  Rallying  the  three  boys 
in  the  dining-room  a caucus  was  held.  Our  ages  were 
respectively  eleven,  nine,  seven  and  five  years.  I was 
self-elected  chairman  on  the  momentous  occasion. 
“ Boys,”  my  voice  came  trembling  with  growing  wrath, 
“ a child  has  been  born  into  our  family.  He  will  have 
to  be  supported.  We  are  disgraced.  We  were  too  poor  to 
have  any  more  children.  It  was  just  as  much  as  we  could 
do  to  get  along  with  us  four.  W e must  do  something  to 
show  how  angry  we  are  about  this  baby’s  coming  to  add 
to  our  troubles.”  Forthwith  we  piled  all  the  chairs  to- 
gether in  a towering  heap  and  knocked  them  down  by 
two’s  and  three’s,  breaking  several,  and  making  an  aw- 
ful din.  After  the  fury  of  the  tempest  had  subsided  we 
met  in  council  again  and  took  a solemn  vow  never  to 
look  at  the  intruder  until  we  were  forced,  by  unhappy 
circumstances,  to  do  so;  and  we  never  did  until  we 
learned  that  mother  was  about  to  die. 

A week  later  Fannie,  one  of  our  ex-slaves,  came  to 
the  rear  gallery  and  said : “ Baby ! ” — all  of  our  ante- 


Readjustment  27 

bellum  negroes  called  me  “ Baby/'  as  I was  the  last 
infant  born  in  the  family  before  the  war  closed.  “ Baby, 
Mistis  is  pow’ful  bad  off  an'  yo  pa,  he  say  4 go  fo’  de 
doctor ! ’ ” I waited  for  no  further  command,  nor  took 
time  to  search  for  my  sun-bonnet,  which  was  usually 
sewed  on  by  mother  to  preserve  my  complexion,  and  as 
regularly  cut  off  by  some  negro  woman  at  my  urgent 
solicitation,  but  ran  rapidly  up  the  hill  to  Vernon  for 
the  neighboring  physician.  On  my  return,  the  boys  and 
I formed  a procession  and  marched  into  mother’s  room 
with  shamed  faces  and  bursting  hearts.  We  were  all 
nearly  grown,  however,  before  we  forgave  the  baby  for 
being  born. 

The  comradeship  begun  at  the  hearthstone  with  my 
three  brothers  continued.  They  were  ever  my  most  de- 
voted friends  and  enthusiastic  allies.  The  oldest  always 
came  to  my  assistance  in  domestic  matters  and  even 
after  he  had  become  a man  and  entered  into  business 
he  would  give  out  the  meals  for  me  on  his  visits  home, 
if  mother  was  ill.  He  would  keep  my  breakfast  warm 
if  I did  not  care  to  arise  when  the  others  did,  saying 
always  tenderly,  after  a gentle  tap  on  my  door,  “ Do 
you  want  to  sleep  this  morning,  sister?  Very  well,  I 
will  attend  to  everything.”  We  four  shared  every  hard- 
ship and  rejoiced  together  in  every  happiness.  In  sum- 
mer we  went  wading  and  fishing ; the  boys  chivalrously 
taking  off  their  jackets  for  me  to  wipe  my  feet  on,  and 
baiting  my  hooks.  When  we  were  older  we  went  hunt- 
ing. They  carried  my  gun  but  I did  my  own  shooting. 
Their  unselfish  acts  were  returned  by  me  in  the  intimi- 
dation of  rowdy  boys  at  school  whenever  domineering 


28 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


the  little  fellows  was  attempted.  In  all  the  association 
of  our  lives  my  three  companions  were  always  loving 
and  generous  to  me,  never  harshly  criticizing  any  action, 
however  absurd,  or  the  causes  I espoused  later  on, 
whether  or  not  they  were  in  accord  with  the  spirit  of 

them.  The  affinity  between  my  second  brother  and  my- 
self was  most  pronounced.  We  read  Shakspeare  to- 
gether, had  long  walks  and  confidential  talks,  discussing 
books  and  life  and  laying  great  plans  for  the  future. 
We  were  both  ambitious  for  the  widest  culture,  and  as 
the  chances  narrowed,  shutting  out  every  hope  of  a 
liberal  education  we  became  more  closely  united  in 
spirit  through  our  common  sorrow.  Mother  taught  my 
brothers  that  as  they  had  but  one  sister  they  should 
render  to  her  the  highest  homage, — and  they  did,  most 
loyally.  By  degrees  every  species  of  rough  work  of 
which  they  could  relieve  me  was  taken  from  my  hands. 
If  an  article  was  wanted  at  the  table  a boy  arose  to  get 
it.  If  a sacrifice  was  to  be  endured — an  old  garment 
longer  worn — a choice  bit  of  food  surrendered, — the 
boys  undertook  the  renunciation.  Father  set  them  the 
example  in  his  exquisite  courtesy.  His  considerateness 
for  woman  never  failed  him.  How  sweet  that  old 
home-life  was ! — the  manly  gentleness  of  my  brothers, 
the  royal  graciousness  of  my  father,  the  tender  devotion 
of  my  mother ! 

A law  was  passed  by  the  legislature  of  Mississippi 
in  1846  establishing  a system  of  public  schools.  Al- 
most nothing  was  accomplished,  however,  up  to  1861, 

then,  of  course,  the  Confederacy  absorbed  every  other 
question.  In  the  South  generally  the  attention  of  the 


Readjustment  29 

people  was  beginning  to  be  drawn  toward  public  edu- 
cation just  before  the  opening  of  the  civil  war;  but, 
during  the  black  days  of  reconstruction  there  was  little 
inclination  to  encourage  a system  of  education  that 
would  have  to  be  supported  for  colored  as  well  as  white 
children,  the  taxes  for  the  purpose  being  paid  by  the 
latter  almost  entirely.  Especially,  while  the  whites 
were  being  threatened  by  the  government  at  Washing- 
ton with  co-education  of  the  races. 

The  Republican  convention  of  1868  made  provisions 
for  the  revival  of  the  system  of  free  schools  which  went 
into  operation  in  1870. 

The  nearly  tax-crushed  people  objected  to  an  educa- 
tional law  made  by  a legislature  composed  of  ex-slaves, 
few  of  whom  could  read,  and  of  carpet-baggers  and 
scalawags, — and  administered  by  an  alien,  non-tax-pay- 
ing  governor  and  superintendent  of  education.  With 
such  a revival  it  is  marvelous  that  the  free  school  found 
any  tolerance  in  Southern  life. 

Public  schools  were  a costly  luxury  in  those  days. 
The  whites  paid  the  expenses  of  public  instruction  and, 
as  much  as  possible,  educated  their  own  children  in 
private  schools.  If  a public  school  teacher  had  but  one 
pupil  he  drew  his  full  salary  as  punctually  as  if  there 
were  a hundred  in  attendance. 

Among  my  first  teachers  was  a young  woman  whom 
mother  boarded  in  order  to  give  me  instruction.  Her 
time  was  divided  between  reading  Byron  and  drilling 
me  in  the  multiplication  table  in  vast  disproportion. 
Afterward  my  public  school  life  began.  The  patrons 
of  the  Vernon  school  selected  a teacher  for  a certain 


3° 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


term,  and  thought,  of  course,  that  the  Board  of  Educa- 
tion, although  composed  of  men  of  a different  political 
party,  would  have  regard  to  their  opinion  and  appoint 
their  choice.  Instead  a strange  lady  from  Maine  was 
given  the  place.  Every  parent  felt  grossly  insulted  by 
such  a high-handed  measure,  and  refused  to  send  their 
children  to  school.  Father  said  he  stopped  me  on  prin- 
ciple. 

I was  growing  up  like  a weed,  and  heard  nothing  dis- 
cussed but  Republicans.  Conjectures  began  to  form  in 
my  brain  as  to  what  sort  of  creatures  they  could  be.  I 
heard  them  called  “ black,”  but  one  day  a Northern 
man,  who  was  said  to  be  a Republican,  passed  suf- 
ficiently near  for  me  to  discern  that  he  was  as  fair  as 
the  proverbial  lily  and  shaped  like  an  Apollo.  Grad- 
ually my  cranium  cast  out  its  terrifying  myths,  and 
reached  an  adjustment  so  far  as  that  Republicans  looked 
like  other  men,  but  should  never  be  spoken  to,  and  must 
be  shunned  like  the  small-pox. 

For  a whole  term  the  new  teacher  went  to  the  school- 
house,  stayed  the  number  of  hours  required  by  law,  and 
drew  a salary  of  $75  at  the  end  of  each  month.  She 
had  only  one  pupil ; he  was  her  nephew.  The  follow- 
ing year  the  political  storm  had  abated ; the  Democrats 
were  regaining  power.  Patrons  could  now  elect  the 
teachers  of  their  schools.  The  quiet  dignity,  and  su- 
perior attainments  of  the  Northern  lady  had  made  their 
impress.  Fair  play  was  not  neglected  when  the  South- 
ern men's  turn  came ; the  patrons  who  had  rebelled  and 
seceded  when  coercion  was  afoot,  now  selected  this 
same  teacher  for  the  next  session. 


Readjustment  3 1 

That  was  the  beginning  of  a bright  era  for  me.  As 
soon  as  Mrs.  Fenderson  was  met,  with  her  pure,  sweet 
face,  and  gracious,  elegant  bearing,  my  heart  was  laid 
at  her  feet.  We  became  close  friends.  On  rainy  days 
when  there  would  be  no  pupils  at  the  school-house,  but 
the  small  nephew  and  me,  my  beloved  teacher  would 
take  us  home  with  her  to  “ hear  our  lessons.”  She  lived 
on  a plantation  not  far  from  ours,  with  a widowed  sister, 
Mrs.  Woodman,  whose  husband,  a colonel  in  the  Fed- 
eral army,  had  died  soon  after  coming  to  Mississippi. 
They  were  beautiful  women,  and  so  pathetic  in  their 
loneliness.  It  was  touching  to  see  how  yearningly  they 
reached  out  after  me,  only  a child,  treating  me  as  courte- 
ously and  as  lovingly  as  if  I were  a distinguished  guest 
of  grown-up  proportions.  They  would  talk  about  their 
far-away  New  England  home,  describing  the  customs 
of  the  people,  so  unlike  the  Southerners ; show  me  pic- 
tures of  noted  persons  and  places ; read  to  me  from  mag- 
azines and  attractive  books  and  feed  me  on  delicious 
“ buns  ” and  “ cookies,”  names  unknown  on  a Missis- 
sippi menu.  I began  to  think  there  was  no  spot  in  all 
the  world  so  alluring  as  the  dwelling  of  these  friends, 
nor  any  human  beings  as  lovely.  My  first  wide  out- 
look upon  humanity  was  gained  through  them,  and  they 
brought  to  my  vigilant  soul  the  awakening  of  my  first 
inspirations. 

Our  delightful  intercourse  and  mutual  devotion  con- 
tinued without  a break  until  two  years  later,  when  Mrs. 
Fenderson  fell  a victim  to  the  dread  malarial  fever. 
When  her  tired  body  was  laid  away  in  its  last  resting 
place  it  was  in  a land  of  strangers,  for  unto  the  end  she 


32  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

had  lived  in  unbroken  isolation.  All  the  light  seemed  to 
die  out  of  life  for  me.  To  this  day  I mourn  her  loss 
and  revere  her  memory,  with  deepest  gratitude  and  with 
a love  unspeakable ; but,  with  Mrs.  A.  D.  T.  Whitney, 
“ I believe  that  there  is  no  away ; that  no  love,  no  life 
goes  ever  from  us ; it  goes  as  He  went  that  it  may  come 
again,  deeper  and  closer  and  surer ; and  be  with  us  al- 
ways, even  unto  the  end  of  the  world.” 


CHAPTER  IV 


THE  YOUNG  LADIES"  ACADEMY 

There  ! little  girl ; don’t  cry  ! 

They  have  broken  your  heart,  I know; 

And  the  rainbow  gleams 
Of  your  youthful  dreams 
Are  things  of  the  long  ago ; 

But  heaven  holds  all  for  which  you  sigh, 

There  ! little  girl ; don’t  cry  ! 

— James  Whitcomb  Riley. 

Soon  after  the  close  of  the  war,  nearly  every  old  fam- 
ily moved  away  from  the  Vernon  neighborhood  except 
father’s  and  that  of  one  of  his  brothers.  Three  or  four 
worthy,  agreeable  ones  took  their  places,  but  the  major- 
ity of  the  new-comers  were  poor,  unlettered  people,  with 
strong  class  prejudices  and  an  intense  jealousy  of  the 
planter-caste.  The  splendid  ante-bellum  homes  were 
rented  to  these  and  to  negroes.  Our  social  circle  had 
pitifully  narrowed  down.  We  were  literally  shut  in 
from  the  world  with  nothing  to  relieve  the  pressure 
but  books.  I read,  read,  read, — English  and  American 
poets,  standard  fiction, travels,  histories,  biographies  and 
philosophies.  So,  in  the  midst  of  poverty  and  desola- 
tion, my  mind  was  being  fed  with  the  very  manna  of  in- 
tellectual life.  Reading  was  done  with  pencil  in  hand 

33 


34 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


and  note  book  and  dictionary  conveniently  near.  The 
habit  proved  invaluable. 

Father  was  struggling  heroically  with  adversity.  His 
first  venture  at  bread  winning  was  in  the  insurance  busi- 
ness ; but  the  returns  were  paltry  enough  to  make  him 
discard  it  for  the  rejected  profession  of  his  youth.  He 
studied  law,  and  secured  a license  to  practice  in  the 
Magistrates'  courts.  His  clients  were  poor  and  troubled 
and  father's  missionary  spirit  so  large  that  the  gains 
from  the  legal  calling  were  as  meagre  as  from  the  in- 
surance business ; and,  after  a few  years  it  was  aban- 
doned. Agencies  for  several  plantations  later  fell  into 
his  hands  and  eventually  he  returned  to  his  planting 
interests. 

The  boys  soon  became  old  enough  to  work  in  the  field. 
Never  having  been  trained  as  plowmen,  their  first  ef- 
forts were  crude,  developing  the  most  ludicrously 
crooked  rows  of  corn  and  cotton.  Father  was  dis- 
gusted with  the  result  of  their  attempts,  and,  in  des- 
peration, took  hold  of  the  plow,  one  spring  morning,  to 
teach  them  precision.  “ I am  ashamed  that  the  outcome 
of  your  work  is  so  wretched,  after  living  on  a planta- 
tion all  your  lives.  Let  me  show  you  how  to  manage  a 
plow ! " he  exclaimed,  grasping  the  implement  with 
stern  determination.  It  was  heavier  than  he  thought — 
he  had  never  touched  one  before,  and,  never  after,  it  is 
well  to  add — and  the  mouth  of  the  mule  tougher  than 
he  dreamed.  Away  went  the  plow  ! up  and  down,  right 
and  left,  here  and  there;  demolishing  the  serpentine 
rows  and  scattering  clods  and  confusion  broadcast.  The 
boys  were  convulsed  with  laughter,  which,  however, 


35 


The  Young  Ladies’  Academy 

they  wisely  concealed.  Father  kept  on  trying  to  con- 
quer the  mule  and  the  plow  until  exhaustion  came. 
Throwing  down  the  lines,  he  said,  very  bravely,  “ Now, 
boys,  you  see  how  it  ought  to  be  done.  Never  let  me 
hear  of  your  failing  again ! " and  walked  away  with  as- 
sumed stateliness  to  hide  his  crestfallen  condition : back 
to  his  den  and  his  law  books.  Dear  father ! he  was  born 
for  happier  abodes  than  a Mississippi  plantation.  The 
post-bellum  world  was  too  much  for  him.  He  was  not 
alone  in  his  position.  Thousands  of  ex-slave-holders 
throughout  the  South  were  grappling  vainly  with  con- 
ditions that  “ try  men's  souls." 

My  father's  youngest  brother,  “ uncle  Kinch,"  as  he 
was  familiarly  known  to  us  and  to  the  world,  had  moved 
from  Vernon  to  Canton ; the  latter  a beautiful  town,  the 
county  seat  of  Madison.  Here  he  and  his  wife,  “ aunt 
Henrietta,"  kept  open  house  in  the  charming  home 
where  they  had  established  themselves.  They  were 
both  happy-hearted,  fond  of  bright  company,  devoted  to 
music  and  blessed  with  a handsome  competency.  My 
aunt  had  inherited  a goodly  portion  from  her  father's 
estate  in  Louisiana,  just  after  the  war,  when  the  cotton 
planters  of  Mississippi  were  enduring  terrible  financial 
depression.  Uncle  Kinch  had  lost  a leg  at  Cold-Harbor, 
in  the  Confederate  service,  but  this  misfortune  did  not 
imbitter  his  spirit  nor  check  the  flow  of  his  brilliant 
wit  that  had  descended  to  him  from  a long  line  of  Irish 
ancestry.  His  captivating  jokes  and  hail-fellow-well- 
met  air  attracted  the  young  people  in  a wide  relation- 
ship; his  home  became  headquarters  for  every  one  in 
search  of  a royal  time.  He  had  no  children : one  of  his 


36  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


adopted  daughters  was  married,  the  other  a young  lady 
in  society : but  his  numerous  nieces  and  nephews  were 
taken  into  his  affections,  all  called  “ honey  ” and  treated 
with  lavish  cordiality.  When  I reached  the  age  of 
thirteen,  my  public  school  course  was  finished.  At  this 
turning  point  of  the  way,  uncle  Kinch  invited  me  to 
make  his  house  my  home  and  attend  the  Young  Ladies' 
Academy  for  as  long  as  father  would  be  able  to  bear 
the  expense  of  tuition  fees.  The  hospitality  was  gladly 
accepted.  In  a few  days,  my  little  trunk  was  packed. 
I had  been  making  my  own  clothes  for  four  years,  so 
did  not  go  away  hopelessly  ignorant  of  how  to  take  care 
of  myself.  Good-byes  were  said  to  mother  and  the  boys, 
and  early  one  September  morning  father  and  I climbed 
into  the  buggy — the  carriage  had  long  since  been  dis- 
posed of — with  my  baggage  securely  settled  at  our  feet 
and,  started  on  the  long  journey  of  twenty  miles 
through  the  country  to  Canton.  There  was  at  that  time 
no  nearer  railway  station.  Those  lonely,  lengthy  drives, 
which  were  so  often  enjoyed  with  father,  stand  out 
prominently  in  my  life's  history.  It  was  in  these  hours 
that  we  had  sweet  communion  and  laid  the  foundations 
of  an  enduring  friendship.  He  talked  to  me  unreserv- 
edly of  the  most  sacred  things  in  his  experience,  and 
philosophized  upon  human  existence,  upon  science,  re- 
ligion, politics,  interspersing  his  remarks  with  kindly 
advice  and  tender  sentiment.  Father  had  the  happy 
faculty  of  calling  out  the  best  that  was  in  one,  and  in 
turn  fascinating  his  companion  with  the  seemingly  lim- 
itless resources  of  his  well-stored  mind  and  broad 
Christianity.  He  had  always  been  a companion  to  his 


The  Young  Ladies'  Academy  3 7 

children,  drawing  us  closer  year  after  year,  entertaining 
us  with  incidents  from  the  lives  of  great  men  and 
women  and  of  obscure  though  beautiful  characters 
whom  he  had  known  or  of  whom  he  had  heard,  thus 
inciting  us  to  high  aspirations ; best  of  all,  holding  up 
before  us  daily,  though  unconsciously,  the  “ white 
flower  of  a blameless  life.,, 

In  later  years  it  was  a source  of  intense  gratification 
to  me  to  know  that  my  father  was  devoid  of  a sugges- 
tion of  sectional  animosity.  He  had  the  highest  regard 
for  the  true-hearted  people  of  the  North  and  a cordial 
admiration  for  their  sterling  worth  and  wonderful  ac- 
complishments. The  civil  war  left  him  with  a profound 
respect  for  the  valor  of  his  opponents.  He  told  of  their 
heroism  with  enthusiasm.  After  the  battle  of  Leesburg, 
his  company,  with  three  others,  was  ordered  to  conduct 
the  prisoners  captured  to  Centerville,  Virginia.  They 
left  Leesburg  at  twelve  o’clock  at  night.  It  was  com- 
paratively warm  at  the  start,  but  by  daybreak  it  had 
become  severely  cold.  Some  time  during  the  following 
morning,  father  noticed  among  the  captives  a mere 
youth — not  more  than  sixteen  years  old — who  was  with- 
out shoes  or  socks.  On  inspection  it  was  found  that  he 
was  nude  with  the  exception  of  an  army  overcoai. 
Upon  being  questioned,  he  stated  that  when  the  Con- 
federates drove  the  Union  army  from  the  field  back  to 
the  Potomac,  he  had  pulled  his  clothes  off  and  jumped 
into  the  river  with  many  others  to  swim  to  an  island 
where  the  Federal  troops  had  landed,  and  where  he 
hoped  still  to  find  some  of  his  comrades.  “ When  we 
got  into  the  river,”  he  said,  “ the  Confederates  opened 


38  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


fire,  and  to  keep  from  being  shot,  I returned  to  the  Vir- 
ginia shore.  When  I looked  around  for  my  clothes 
they  were  gone.”  That  bare-foot  boy,  covered  only 
with  an  old  army  overcoat,  had  marched  for  hours  un- 
complainingly over  the  stony  roads  of  Virginia  in  a 
temperature  at  freezing  point,  while  others  in  the  ranks, 
well-clad,  were  complaining  heavily.  Father  made  an 
effort  to  secure  some  clothing  for  the  young  Federal 
hero,  but  failing,  had  him  put  into  a wagon  and  carried 
the  remainder  of  the  way. 

Along  with  his  unprejudiced  regard  for  the  Northern 
people,  father  cherished  an  ardent  love  for  the  land  of 
his  birth  and  was  eloquent  over  the  courage,  patriotism 
and  pathetic  endurance  of  the  Southern  soldiers. 
Among  the  numerous  instances,  illustrative  of  their  un- 
selfish attachment  to  the  cause  for  which  they  were  will- 
ing to  lay  down  their  lives,  he  told,  with  especial  pride, 
of  a noble  exhibition  of  loyalty  on  the  part  of  a young 
officer  from  his  own  state.  While  on  the  Peninsula, 
near  Richmond,  Lieutenant  Brown,  son  of  ex-Governor 
A.  G.  Brown,  of  Mississippi,  the  latter  at  the  time  a 
senator  in  the  Confederate  Congress,  was  detailed  by 
the  colonel  of  his  regiment  to  go  to  Richmond  on  busi- 
ness for  the  army.  He  went  to  father,  who  was  lieuten- 
ant colonel,  and  asked  him  to  secure  his  release  as  the 
1 8th  Mississippi  was  expected  every  day  to  enter  into 
an  engagement  and  he  did  not  want  the  news  sent  home 
that  he  was  not  in  the  battle.  The  young  lieutenant 
could  have  executed  his  commission  and  had  a gay  time 
at  the  Confederate  capital,  avoiding  all  the  dangers  of 


The  Young  Ladies’  Academy  39 

war,  but  he  preferred  to  face  death  in  his  country's  serv- 
ice rather  than  have  his  devotion  questioned. 

Going  to  Canton  with  father  was  not  my  first  separa- 
tion from  home.  My  aunt  and  uncle  had  received  many 
visits  from  me  since  my  childhood,  so  it  was  not  hard 
to  go.  Besides,  I was  hungry  to  be  in  a school  of  a 
high  grade,  and  was  willing  to  suffer  to  accomplish  it. 
Professor  Magruder,  a very  scholarly  man  and  able 
teacher,  was  Principal  of  the  Academy.  Associated 
with  him  as  assistants  were  two  cultivated  women.  My 
examinations  were  safely  passed  and  admission  was 
given  to  the  Freshman  class.  A solemn  mental  resolu- 
tion was  taken  to  make  the  best  of  my  opportunities. 
All  the  force  of  my  intellectual  and  physical  being  was 
brought  to  bear  upon  my  studies  with  an  energy  that 
knew  no  stint  nor  relaxation.  Midnight  found  me  at 
my  books,  and  it  was  a rare  occurrrence  for  me  to  go 
upon  the  play-ground  at  recess.  Every  morning  I arose 
with  the  sun,  wrote  a diary  of  the  preceding  day  and 
looked  again  over  my  lessons. 

On  Saturdays  essays  were  prepared  for  the  follow- 
ing Friday  afternoons.  I began  to  dream  dreams  of 
graduation;  afterwards  of  going  North  to  a Woman's 
College,  and  later  to  Germany  for  further  culture  in 
certain  branches.  Alas  ! for  my  fine  schemes ; destined 
to  premature  destruction ! After  being  at  the  Academy 
for  only  two  years,  father  was  compelled  to  take  me 
home  because  he  was  unable  longer  to  pay  the  monthly 
tuition  of  five  dollars.  My  humiliation  was  the  most 
crushing,  and  my  disappointment  the  keenest,  cruelest, 


40  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

that  can  come  to  me  in  this  life.  I could  not  cry.  The 
fountains  of  tears  were  dried  up  by  the  deadly  east- 
wind  of  despair  that  was  sweeping  over  me.  It  would 
have  been  folly  to  rail  at  my  unhappy  fate;  it  would 
only  have  exhausted  my  vitality.  It  would  have  been 
sinful  to  upbraid  father ; he  would  have  given  me  mil- 
lions if  he  had  possessed  so  much ; he  did  not  have  an 
extra  dollar,  and  was  probably  suffering  much  more 
than  I.  Besides,  the  boys  were  growing  rapidly,  and 
the  oldest  must  be  given  at  least  one  year  at  the  Uni- 
versity, and  every  possible  economy  must  be  practised 
to  accomplish  that  object. 

I had  never  heard  of  a woman  working  to  pay  her 
way  through  school.  Numerous  instances  of  men  ac- 
quiring an  education  by  hard  labor  had  been  related  to 
me,  but  never  of  a woman . All  the  women  who  were 
known  to  me  personally,  or  through  books,  or  tradi- 
tion, had  their  bills  paid  by  male  relatives,  and  made 
fancy  work,  and  visited,  and  danced,  and  played  on 
the  piano,  or  did  something  else  equally  feminine  and 
equally  conventional,  and  all  were  equally  dependent 
and  equally  contented, — at  any  rate,  asked  no  questions. 
Industrial  institutes  and  colleges  where  poor  girls  could 
work  their  way  through  were  not  in  existence,  and  the 
doors  of  the  State  University,  where  tuition  was  free, 
were  then  open  only  to  boys.  There  was  nothing  in 
Mississippi  for  young  women  except  high-priced  board- 
ing schools  and  “ female  ” academies.  It  is  humiliating 
to  women  for  colleges,  academies  and  boarding  schools 
established  for  their  education  to  be  called  “ female.” 
There  is  no  sex  in  institutions  of  learning.  The  word 


The  Young  Ladies’  Academy  41 

“ woman  ” is  strong  and  dignified  and  suggests  courte- 
ous consideration.  “ Female  ” is  weak  and  almost  in- 
sulting. It  stands  now  as  the  exponent  of  the  inferior 
position  of  women  as  early  conceptions  of  the  nature 
and  province  of  women  are  illustrated  in  the  sculpture 
and  painting  of  the  old  masters. 

There  is  a statue  in  the  great  cathedral  at  Pisa  rep- 
resenting the  temptation  of  Eve  where  the  serpent  has 
the  head  of  a woman  ; and  upon  the  ceiling  of  the  Sistine 
Chapel  at  Rome,  in  Michael  Angelo's  marvelous  pro- 
duction, the  devil  is  painted  with  a woman's  body  down 
to  the  waist  while  the  remainder  of  his  satanic  majesty 
is  in  the  form  of  a reptile. 

If  the  thought  of  working  to  continue  my  education 
had  entered  my  brain,  which  it  did  not,  it  would  have 
been  throttled  at  its  inception,  for  my  family  would 
have  considered  it  an  eternal  disgrace  for  me  to  have 
worked  publicly.  It  is  true  that  for  four  years  I had  been 
in  a pitiless  tread-mill,  but  it  was  at  home;  the  world 
did  not  know  of  it;  and  money,  that  degrading  sub- 
stance, had  not  been  received  for  my  labor.  Household 
drudgery  and  public  work  were  very  different  ques- 
tions. The  former  was  natural  and  unavoidable;  the 
latter  was  monstrous  and  impossible.  I was  fairly 
bound  to  the  rock  of  hopelessness  by  the  cankered  chains 
of  a false  conventionality,  and  sacrificed  for  lack  of  a 
precedent. 

Of  all  unhappy  sights,  the  most  pitiable  is  that  of  a 
human  life,  rich  in  possibilities  and  strong  with  divine 
yearnings  for  better  things  than  it  has  known,  atrophy- 
ing in  the  prison  house  of  blind  and  palsied  custom ; — 


42 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


because  there  is  no  one  in  the  passing  throng  brave  and 
great  enough  to  break  the  bars  and  “ let  the  oppressed 
go  free/’ — into  the  larger  liberty  where  God  meant  that 
all  His  creatures  should  live  and  grow  and  shine . 


CHAPTER  V 


STORMS  OF  THE  SOUL 

We  are  haunted  by  an  ideal  life,  and  it  is  because  we  have 
within  us  the  beginning  and  the  possibility  of  it. — Phillips 
Brooks. 

My  early  and  invincible  love  of  reading,  I would  not  ex- 
change for  the  treasures  of  India. — Gibbon. 

Since  the  close  of  the  civil  war  as  complete  a change 
had  taken  place  in  the  South  as  followed  the  revolution 
in  France  of  the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
Under  the  new  regime  which  began  with  the  liberation 
of  over  4,000,000  slaves  the  upper  and  the  middle 
classes  have  become  amalgamated  by  the  action  of  the 
elements  of  circumstance. 

Many  of  the  old  families,  boasting  a long  line  of 
descent  from  blue-blooded  and  distinguished  ancestors, 
soon  were  the  most  sorely  pressed  financially.  Thou- 
sands of  middle-aged — and  younger — men  had  come 
home  from  the  last  battle-field  maimed  by  wounds  or 
weakened  in  health  by  privations.  When  they  entered 
the  gloom  of  lost  fortunes,  added  to  the  sorrows  of  a 
lost  cause,  they  quickly  sank  under  the  triple  weight. 
Hundreds  of  them  were  followed  to  the  grave  by  com- 
munities that  sorely  felt  the  need  of  their  ripe  judg- 
ment, their  accustomed  leadership.  The  stress  of  pov- 


43 


44  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

erty,  the  paralysis  of  indolence  and  the  want  of  purpose 
benumbed  the  energies  and  stultified  the  pride  of  other 
descendants  of  the  old  slave-holders,  many  of  whom 
bore  the  pitiless  stamp  of  incapacity  to  wrest  success 
out  of  new  conditions. 

The  middle  classes  were  equal  to  the  emergency.  Ad- 
justment is  easier  than  readjustment.  Trained  to  activ- 
ities they  sprang  rapidly  to  the  front,  becoming  posses- 
sors of  wealth  and  leaders  in  church  and  state.  The 
inevitable  in  social  life  has  developed.  Marriage  into 
the  higher  class  followed  as  a matter  of  course  with 
the  middle,  for  the  one  wanted  prestige  and  the  other 
money.  The  distinctions  of  half  a century  ago  have 
gradually  lost  their  outlines.  The  “ strenuous  life  ” of 
the  day  now  engrosses  the  mind  of  the  Southerner  more 
than  the  ancient  “ family  tree.” 

Next  to  the  destruction  of  caste,  the  most  radical 
change  that  has  followed  in  the  wake  of  the  surrender 
of  the  Confederate  armies  is  that  young  Southern  men 
and  women  have  learned  that  work  is  honorable.  Idle- 
ness has  grown  to  be  a shame.  No  boy  and  girl  can 
now  hope  to  realize  their  highest  destiny  except  through 
hard,  earnest  toil  of  hands  or  brain.  The  unsafe  and 
unnatural  code  of  the  manorial  leisure  of  other  days 
vanished  with  slavery.  This  transition  of  sentiment, 
however,  has  been  the  slow  growth  of  years.  The  blos- 
soming “ of  the  tree  ” whose  “ leaves  ” are  “ for  the 
healing  of  the  Nations  ” had  scarcely  begun  when  my 
feet  stood  on  the  threshold  of  eager  life, — wrestling  in 
strong  agony  with  hopeless  but  unconquerable  purposes. 

One  of  the  most  unfortunate  conditions  in  all  the 


Storms  of  the  Soul 


45 


world  is  a state  of  aimlessness.  It  saps  the  springs  of 
power  and  dulls  the  finest  soul.  It  drags  down  and  de- 
stroys. I was  only  fifteen.  What  was  my  future  to  be? 
Never  to  go  to  the  Academy  again?  Never  to  attend 
a Northern  college?  Never  to  cross  the  sea?  What 
was  there  for  me  to  do  ? How  could  the  days  be  filled  so 
as  to  keep  down  the  heart-break  ? Those  were  the  ques- 
tions that  were  never  stilled.  If  my  life  had  to  be  spent 
on  the  plantation,  and  if  living  meant  no  more  for  me 
than  it  meant  for  the  women  about  me,  what  was  the 
use  of  reading,  of  trying  to  cultivate  my  mind  when  it 
would  have  the  effect  of  making  me  more  miserable  and 
of  widening  the  intellectual  gulf  that  already  stretched 
between  most  of  the  neighbors  and  myself?  What  a 
terrible  thing  life  seemed ! And  how  every  impulse  of 
my  being  hated  it  with  an  immeasurable  hatred!  In 
those  days  I died  ten  thousand  deaths.  I died  to  God 
and  to  humanity. 

From  the  hour  of  leaving  school  in  Canton  a deadness 
settled  upon  my  soul.  “ The  door  was  shut.”  The 
night  closed  in.  That  was  the  beginning  of  an  unbelief 
that  haunted  me  for  ten  dreary  agonizing  years.  My 
natural  tendency  to  questioning  had  been  intensified  by 
the  environments  of  my  childhood ; but  the  spirit  of  in- 
quiry had  not  led  me  further  than  the  human  side.  The 
orthodox  version  of  Creator  and  creation  was  accepted 
as  credulously  as  the  air  that  was  breathed  or  the  per- 
fume of  flowers.  It  was  only  the  grindings  of  poverty, 
the  raspings  of  the  jagged  edges  of  every-day  exist- 
ence and  the  perpetual  witnessing  of  misery  in  the 
world  about  me  that  caused  me  first  to  ask : What  is 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


46 

life?  Up  to  the  age  of  fifteen  my  soul  had  hoped  and 
prayed  and  listened  for  the  voice  of  God.  I believed  in 
Him,  and  waited — not  patiently  but  imperatively, — but 
— I believed  and  waited . In  the  great  storm  that  en- 
gulfed me  at  that  time  my  faith  let  go  its  moorings,  and 
I found  myself  drifting,  without  a gleam  of  light,  out 
upon  the  waste  of  midnight  waters  known  as  skepti- 
cism. As  the  darkness  deepened  and  thoughts  heavy 
with  increasing  doubts  surged  through  my  brain  like  a 
lava-tide,  my  soul  demanded  verification  for  my  convic- 
tions. 

There  was  no  one  in  the  home  with  whom  conversa- 
tion on  such  a subject  would  have  been  particularly 
satisfying,  so,  in  desperation  a search  was  made  through 
the  library  for  some  book  that  would  answer  my 
queries ; but  nothing  was  found  touching  infidelity  ex- 
cept the  materialism  of  certain  philosophers.  These 
works  were  devoured  until  my  mind  became  saturated 
with  their  ideas.  I grew  to  despise  Christianity  and 
sneered  at  every  profession  of  trust  in  a Supreme  Being. 
Church  members  were  observed  critically  and  every  sin 
and  inconsistency  which  was  discovered  in  them 
brought  out  that  degree  of  derision  and  contempt  to 
which  only  youth,  ignorance  and  prejudice  are  equal. 
Mother  had  a habit  of  devoting  several  hours  each 
morning  to  study  of  the  Bible.  On  seeing  her  sur- 
rounded by  rows  of  commentaries  and  bending  over  the 
Scriptures,  comparing  passages  or  memorizing  texts, 
I felt  my  heart  hardening,  and  was  conscious  of  an  in- 
creased aversion  to  religion.  Our  home  was  headquar- 
ters for  all  Methodist  ministers  who  passed  that  way, 


Storms  of  the  Soul 


47 


to  mother's  intense  delight  and  my  intense  disgust.  It 
was  a rule  of  mine  to  avoid  them  whenever  possible. 
My  voluntary  entrance  into  the  church  dated  from  my 
twelfth  year,  during  a great  revival.  Now,  when  the 
scene  occurred  to  me  I laughed  at  myself  for  having 
yielded  to  so  much  emotion,  and  requested  that  my  name 
be  removed  from  the  church  books. 

Our  home  was  headquarters  not  only  for  Methodist 
preachers  but  as  well  for  Democratic  politicians.  Every 
candidate  for  office  in  the  county  found  his  way  there, 
to  mother's  infinite  chagrin  and  the  unbounded  delight 
of  father  and  me.  Mother  often  declined  to  appear  at 
the  table,  so  I would  preside  and  afterward  go  into  the 
parlor  and  talk  with  the  visitors  for  hours  on  the  situa- 
tion of  public  affairs.  The  aspirants  were  of  all  descrip- 
tions— from  the  sleek,  town-bred  lawyer,  “ out  " for  the 
Senate,  to  the  thin,  country  granger,  who  yearned  to  be 
a constable.  They  afforded  me  ample  opportunity  to 
learn  the  methods  of  political  campaigns  and  to  study 
the  motives  and  natures  of  men.  Often  requests  were 
made  by  the  different  candidates  for  my  support  in  a 
canvass ; but  there  were  others  who  had  little  regard 
for  a woman's  assistance. 

One  summer  when  the  roads  were  kept  dusty  by  the 
continuous  goings  to  and  fro  of  the  anxious  office-seek- 
ers, one  of  these  interesting  subjects  dined  at  our  house. 
He  was  a most  forlorn  specimen,  with  heavy,  drooping 
eyes,  straggling  moustache  and  languid  movements. 
His  clothes,  from  the  disconsolate  set  of  his  collar  down 
to  his  edge-frayed  trousers,  draggling  over  his  well- 
worn  boots,  gave  evidence  of  a long,  hard  race  on  the 


48  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


war  path.  My  sympathies  were  so  aroused  that  as  soon 
as  dinner  was  over  I followed  him  to  the  front  gallery 
and,  in  a burst  of  condolence,  said  impulsively:  “ Mr. 
F.,  it  is  my  intention  to  throw  the  whole  weight  of  my 
influence  to  have  you  elected ! ” Looking  at  me  in  a 
sleepily — quizzical  fashion,  he  replied  in  a droning  tone : 
“ It  had  never  occurred  to  me  to  ask  the  assistance  of 
ladies  in  a political  campaign.  I supposed  they  were  too 
busy  in  other  matters  to  be  interested  in  anything  so 
weighty.” 

Then  he  proceeded  to  tell  this  joke:  There  was  a 

great  convention  of  women  held  somewhere,  and  a cer- 
tain local  society  sent  its  delegate.  When  the  repre- 
sentative returned  a meeting  was  called  that  the  ladies 
might  hear  her  report.  When  this  was  finished  she  re- 
marked that  questions  were  “ in  order.”  A slim  little 
woman,  with  a weazen  face  peering  out  from  a flaring 
poke-bonnet,  arose  in  the  rear  of  the  room,  and  in  a 
thin,  high  key  called  out : “ Sister,  what  sort  of  hats  did 
the  women  wear  ? ” Then  my  hopeful  candidate,  turn- 
ing towards  me  more  fully,  with  a glimmer  of  some- 
thing in  his  eyes  which  he  would  have  called  humor, 
said : “ It  was  my  impression  that  all  ladies  thought 
more  about  hats  and  such  things  than  politics.” 

It  is  needless  to  say  the  facetious  gentleman,  with 
the  well-worn  apparel  and  Don  Quixote  air,  lost  my 
support  suddenly  and  completely. 

As  the  days  went  by  they  found  me  more  and  more 
deeply  immersed  in  reading.  Father  bought  me  trans- 
lations of  the  Greek,  Latin  and  Italian  poets.  An  old 
physician,  quite  a literateur,  who  had  recently  come  into 


Storms  of  the  Soul 


49 


the  neighborhood,  loaned  me  valuable  books  that  we 
did  not  own.  He  put  me  under  special  obligations  by 
sending  Allison’s  “ Essays  ” and  Montesquieu’s  “ Spirit 
of  Laws.”  From  other  sources  some  of  the  works  of 
Ruskin,  Carlyle  and  Herbert  Spencer  came  to  me  and 
found  an  honored  place  among  my  treasures.  Although 
applying  myself  sedulously  to  books,  I was  being  con- 
sumed with  a feverish  restlessness.  My  wretchedness 
went  beyond  the  power  of  words  to  express.  A deep- 
rooted  desire  to  do  something  definite  was  always  pres- 
ent ; but  every  undertaking  that  suggested  itself  seemed 
walled  off  by  insurmountable  barriers. 

Finally  I concluded  to  study  law  under  father,  but 
when  my  intention  was  announced  to  him  he  discour- 
aged it  utterly,  arguing  that  if  there  were  in  my  pos- 
session the  legal  lore  of  Blackstone  and  the  ability  of 
a Portia  it  would  not  guarantee  me  the  opportunity 
of  practising  in  the  South.  No  woman  had  ever  at- 
tempted such  an  absurdity,  and  any  effort  on  my  part, 
in  that  line,  would  subject  me  to  ridicule  and  ostracism. 
After  this  fatal  ending  to  my  aspirations,  I again  sought 
refuge  in  books.  With  no  definite  object  ahead  and 
with  not  the  faintest  rim  of  a crescent  of  hope  above  my 
dull  horizon. 

* * * * * 

It  was  the  summer  of  1878.  That  terrible  scourge, 
known  as  yellow-fever,  crept  relentlessly  over  the 
South.  For  the  period  of  time  that  it  lasted  its  deadly 
ravages  exceeded  the  destruction  of  the  civil  war. 
Thousands  stood  shuddering  in  “ The  Valley  of  the 
Shadow.”  Death,  grim  and  awful,  stalked  through  the 


5° 


A Slaveholder's  Daughter 


land  knowing  no  surfeit.  It  was  the  blackness  of  de- 
spair. The  acme  of  desolation.  Pitiless  quarantines 
were  instituted;  families  were  separated  by  a short 
dividing  line  never  to  be  reunited.  Others  fled  in  ter- 
ror from  their  homes  in  towns,  seeking  refuge  in  tents 
and  cabins;  while  those  who  could,  went  to  distant 
states.  Food  supplies  failed.  Hunger,  gaunt  and  hol- 
low-eyed, stole  in  at  the  open  doors.  Men,  women  and 
little  children  moved  about  listlessly,  abandoning  all 
work,  looking  hopelessly  into  each  other’s  eyes,  wonder- 
ing, with  a speechless  fear,  who  would  go  out  first  from 
among  them  to  return  no  more.  Friends  did  not  visit 
nor  church  bells  ring.  All  was  silent  as  the  tomb — wait- 
ing, waiting,  waiting.  In  the  cities,  the  roll  of  the 
death-cart  broke  the  stillness  of  the  streets  as  it  passed 
swiftly  from  house  to  house,  collecting  the  bodies  and 
carrying  them  to  the  cemeteries.  There  was  the  thud 
of  spades  in  the  earth,  driven  by  men  digging  grave 
after  grave,  but  all  else  was  silent — waiting,  waiting, 
waiting.  A white  woman  and  her  two  little  children 
died  near  us  and  were  buried  by  a negro  man.  He  dug 
the  graves  and,  unaided,  lowered  the  bodies  into  the 
earth.  The  husband  dared  not  leave  the  bedside  of  the 
other  sufferers  in  the  afflicted  family.  A physician 
stopped  one  morning  at  the  gate  to  give  father  a list  of 
fresh  victims.  In  four  days  the  young  doctor  was  dead. 
A family  of  ten  persons,  friends  of  ours,  living  near 
Vicksburg,  were  all  stricken  at  one  time.  Nobody  dared 
go  near  the  house  but  the  Italian  nurses  who  had  been 
sent  out  from  the  city.  As  death  followed  death  the 
plantation  bell  would  be  tolled  to  notify  those  who  acted 


Storms  of  the  Soul 


5i 

as  undertakers  that  another  grave  must  be  dug.  For 
the  sake  of  those  still  living  the  dead  were  lowered  in 
sheets  from  the  windows,  to  avoid  the  slow,  ominous 
tramp  of  feet  through  the  hall.  All  were  gone  but  two 
— the  father  and  a young  widowed  daughter.  A 
swarthy  Dago  sat  watching  the  latter,  while  the  blood 
settled  in  her  hands  and  neck.  The  bell  began  to  toll. 
“ What  is  that  for?  ” she  asked.  “ To  have  your  grave 
made  ready,  lady,”  was  the  answer. 

Late  in  the  autumn  the  pall  lifted.  The  quarantines 
were  raised.  The  refugees  returned  to  their  deserted 
homes.  The  voice  of  traffic  was  heard.  Life  waked  up 
with  startled,  saddened  eyes  from  her  long,  deep  sleep. 
It  was  the  middle  of  November.  Some  said  that  Mrs. 
Woodman,  our  Northern  friend,  was  very  ill.  Mother 
and  I walked  over  the  fields  to  see  her.  The  dying  sun 
streamed  across  the  faded  grass  and  lay  in  long,  glint- 
ing lines  upon  the  distant  woods  that  had  many  days 
since  laid  aside  their  summer  vesture.  The  tall  rows 
of  golden-rod  and  yellow  coreopsis  that  fringed  the 
winding  path  swayed  noiselessly  in  the  passing  breeze. 
The  houses  of  the  little  village,  scattered  here  and  there 
in  a lonely  way,  had  a pathetic  mournfulness.  Away  to 
the  east  a glimpse  could  be  caught  of  the  headstones 
that  marked  the  quiet  resting  place  of  our  dead.  The 
surrounding  country,  with  its  gentle  undulations,  was 
wrapped  in  unbroken  solitude.  A peculiar  sadness 
brooded  over  all.  There  is  an  inexplicable  heart-break 
in  those  early  days  of  a Southern  winter; — changing 
sunshine,  shifting  shadows  and  still  air  full  of  a mystic 
haze. 


LIBRARY 

UftIVERSiTY  Or  ILUNG1S 


52  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

“ A Spirit  broods  amid  the  grass : 

Vague  outlines  of  the  Everlasting  Thought 
Lie  in  the  melting  shadows  as  they  pass ; 

The  touch  of  an  Eternal  Presence  thrills 
The  fringes  of  the  sunsets  and  the  hills.” 

I was  peculiarly  susceptible  to  it  all  at  that  time,  for 
my  soul  was  full  of  its  vague  unrest,  its  ever  present 
inquiry  into  life’s  meaning  to  me,  overshadowed  by  a 
grieving  unbelief  of  a Divine  Providence. 

Soon  we  were  standing  in  Mrs.  Woodman’s  sick 
room.  As  I bent  over  the  bed  to  greet  her,  she  threw 
her  arms  about  my  neck  and,  drawing  my  face  close 
down  to  her  lips,  she  whispered,  “ Dear  child,  I have 
been  so  lonely.  When  I get  well  you  will  come  to  stay 
a whole  week  with  me,  won’t  you  ? Ah ! if  I ever  get 
well ! ” She  sighed  and  closed  her  eyes.  In  an  hour 
she  was  unconscious.  About  sunset  a happy  smile 
broke  over  her  face  and  sitting  up  suddenly  she  clasped 
her  hands  over  her  heart  and  cried  out  joyously,  “ Here 
are  letters  from  home!  letters  from  home ! Oh!  I am 
so  glad,  so  glad ! ” I did  not  know  then  the  meaning  of 
that  cry ; but  now  that  it  is  given  me  to  see  clearly  and 
not  “ through  a glass,  darkly,”  a realization  comes  that 
the  “ letters  from  home  ” brought  the  blessed  call  from 
her  Lord,  “ Arise,  let  us  go  hence  ” where  “ there  shall 
be  no  more  death,  neither  sorrow,  nor  crying,  ” — neither 
suffering  nor  loneliness, — where  the  “ many  mansions  ” 
are — in  the  “ city  which  hath  foundations  whose  maker 
and  builder  is  God.”  The  next  day  the  tender,  beautiful 
friend  of  my  childhood  was  dead, — from  yellow  fever. 


CHAPTER  VI 


A NEGRO  SERMON 

Are  you  in  earnest?  Seize  this  very  minute; 

What  you  can  do,  or  dream  you  can,  begin  it! 

— Goethe. 

The  following  January,  I went  to  Canton  to  visit 
my  uncle's  family.  While  there  an  unusually  cheap  ex- 
cursion to  New  Orleans  was  offered  by  the  railway.  I 
had  never  been  to  a city  and  had  all  of  a girl's  eagerness 
to  see  one;  especially  our  flowery,  fascinating,  dear, 
dreamy  Crescent  City.  In  a letter  to  mother  the  fact 
was  mentioned  that  a number  of  my  friends  were  going 
to  take  advantage  of  the  low-rate  trip,  and  expressed 
the  wish  that  such  a joy  were  possible  for  me.  In  a few 
days  father  came  to  Canton,  and  handed  me  a package 
and  a crumpled  note.  On  opening  the  latter  I read: 

“ Dear  Sister  : Mamma  tells  me  that  you  want  to 
go  to  New  Orleans.  I send  you  $15.00 — part  of  the 
money  that  came  from  the  bale  of  cotton  I raised  last 
year. 

“ Your  Affectionate  Brother." 

My  loyal  sympathizer  in  house-keeping  sorrows  thus 
opened  the  way  for  me  to  go.  So,  unexpectedly  and 
gratefully,  I made  one  of  a party  consisting  of  a gentle- 

53 


54 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


man  and  his  wife  and  two  young  ladies  besides  myself. 
After  being  comfortably  located  at  a hotel  we  entered 
upon  the  usual  sight-seeing.  As  we  went  from  point 
to  point,  to  the  amazement  of  my  chaperones  nothing 
astonished  me.  All  things  were  surveyed  without  a 
ripple  of  excitement  or  surprise.  I had  read  of  or  heard 
“ the  sights  ” of  New  Orleans  discussed  until  my  imag- 
ination was  familiar  with  them.  The  French  market 
with  its  delicious  coffee  and  chocolate;  the  picturesque 
bend  of  the  great  river  bearing  upon  its  breast  the  huge 
ships  from  foreign  waters;  Canal  street  with  its  won- 
derful breadth,  Clay’s  statue  and  everywhere  beautiful 
women ; Jackson  Park,  and  its  equestrian  bronze  of  the 
old  general  who  “ fout  the  Britishers ; ” the  street-cars, 
the  opera-houses,  the  handsome  residences  were  as 
thrice-told-tales  to  me. 

My  love  of  adventure  and  spirit  of  enterprise  led  me 
to  separate  myself  from  my  party,  while  visiting  the 
mint,  and  to  go  in  search  of  some  relatives  in  a distant 
part  of  the  city.  The  most  explicit  directions  were 
given,  the  right  car  was  boarded  and  the  desired 
street  reached,  but  at  a point  far  beyond  the  number 
wanted.  While  nervously  going  backward  and  forward 
scanning  doors,  footsteps  behind  were  heard  com- 
ing with  a persistence  that  made  me  know  I was  fol- 
lowed. In  a flash  the  remembrance  came  into  my  mind 
of  all  that  had  been  told  me  of  country  girls  being 
gagged,  chloroformed  and  murdered  on  their  first  visits 
to  cities.  A scream  was  in  my  throat  when  the  man 
reached  my  side.  Instead  of  a ruffian,  a courteous  voice 
said : “ May  I take  the  liberty  of  helping  you  find  the 


55 


A Negro  Sermon 

number  you  are  evidently  in  search  of?  I too  am  a 
stranger  in  the  city  and  am  experiencing  some  of  its 
difficulties."  It  is  said  that  dogs  and  children  are  fine 
judges  of  character.  Many  women  also  do  not  outgrow 
this  elemental  power.  Without  an  instant's  hesitation 
his  aid  was  accepted.  In  a few  moments  the  right  house 
was  reached  and  the  gentleman  had  presented  his  card, 

bowed  and  walked  rapidly  away.  I read  “ J W 

B , Attorney-at-law,  Philadelphia,  Pa."  This  inci- 
dent set  two  thoughts  germinating  in  my  brain : The 

interdependence  of  human  beings,  and,  That  humanity 
will  bear  trusting;  it  responds  according  to  the  faith 
put  in  it.  Wider  experience  has  convinced  me  of  this 
more  and  more  largely. 

***** 

Since  gaining  their  freedom,  the  negro  women's  nat- 
ural love  of  dress  has  developed  inordinately.  It  is  one 
of  their  strongest  predispositions — rivaled  only  by  their 
religious  emotions.  Those  about  us  bought  brilliant- 
hued  stuffs  and  had  them  made  with  most  bizarre  ef- 
fects,— a favorite  being  bright  yellow  calico  trimmed 
with  blue.  Red  was  at  a discount  as  it  made  them 
think  of  “ hell-fire,"  they  said.  They  were  ignorant 
of  sewing  except  of  the  plainest,  coarsest  order,  so  they 
paid  to  have  their  “ Sunday-go-to-meetin’ " dresses 
made.  My  desire  for  employment  was  so  great,  and 
there  being  no  other  opening,  though  it  nearly  crushed 
me,  I swallowed  my  pride  and  asked  the  negroes  to 
bring  their  sewing  to  me.  They  did  it  cheerfully.  Day 
after  day  they  came  bearing  their  precious  bundles,  and. 


56  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


finding  their  way  into  mother's  room,  which  was  the 
scene  of  all  our  labors,  would  drop  them  on  the  floor 
and  stand  until  negotiations  were  concluded.  None  sat 
in  our  presence.  There  has  always  been  a very  nice 
adjustment  of  this  point  between  the  families  of  ex- 
slave-holders and  negroes ; the  latter  have  a fine  sense 
of  when  to  accept  or  refuse  an  offered  chair.  It  would 
be  useless  to  explain  it.  “ Oue  must  be  born  to  it  ” to 
understand,  as  is  said  in  South  Carolina  about  cooking 
rice  properly. 

The  old  servants  usually  began  with  “ Mistis,  how 
old  I is  ? ” When  told  they  would  invariably  give  vent 
to  their  surprise  by  an  ejaculation  beginning  in  a long, 
high-keyed  crescendo  and  ending  in  a diminuendo  as 
abrupt  as  it  was  full  of  softest  musical  rhythm.  “ Lor', 
mistis,  yo'  say  I is ! Marster,  he  done  put  it  down  in  de 
book  fo’  de  surrender,  but  I sho  fergits  it.” 

The  age  of  the  negro  always  seems  a puzzle  to  him, 
and  judging  by  his  face  alone,  is  a problem  impossible  of 
solution,  for  he  may  be  sixty-five  or  eighty-five,  twenty 
or  thirty.  In  old  slave  days  the  master  kept  an  accurate 
record  of  their  ages.  How  many  generations  of  care- 
taking for  themselves  will  be  needed  to  register  the  true 
flight  of  time  on  their  cheerful,  unreflecting  faces  as  it 
is  recorded  in  white  features,  not  by  years  but  by  the 
thought  and  responsibility  and  the  spiritual  force  of  the 
life? 

The  younger  women  introduced  their  business  with, 
“ Miss  Belle,  I done  brung  yo’  a dress  fer  to  make  fer 
me.  I has  all  de  needfuls  excusin'  uv  de  fread.  Ef  yo’ 


57 


A Negro  Sermon 

will  gin  me  dat,  I'll  bring  yo’  some  aigs  nex’  time  I 
come.”  In  sewing  for  the  negroes  mother  did  the  cut- 
ting and  fitting  and  all  of  the  hand  work;  I did  the 
stitching,  bending  over  the  machine  week  after  week, 
until  my  back  ached  and  my  eyes  grew  dim  from  the 
awful  strain.  These  dresses  were  often  ruffled  to  the 
waist  and  otherwise  elaborately  trimmed,  for  which  we 
charged  only  fifty  or  seventy-five  cents.  By  this  means 
we  helped  to  “ make  both  ends  meet.” 

One  of  the  most  popular  places  for  the  exhibition  of 
all  this  gaudy  apparel  was  the  church,  especially  during 
protracted  meetings.  These  are  still  the  chief  diversion, 
beginning  as  soon  as  crops  are  “ laid  by,”  in  July,  and 
continuing  until  the  cotton  picking  season  opens  in  Sep- 
tember. The  services,  always  at  night,  are  indefinitely 
extended  until  near  daybreak.  In  dimly  lighted,  mea- 
grely furnished  frame  buildings  vast  crowds  gather.  In 
the  pulpit  with  the  preacher  is  the  precentor — not 
known  by  that  name — some  brother  of  noted  devotional 
gift  who  begins  the  service  by  “ lining  out  ” a hymn, 
his  voice  intoning  and  dimly  suggesting  the  tune  with 
which  the  congregation  follows, — one  of  those  wild, 
weird  negro  airs,  half  chant  and  dirge,  so  full  of  demi- 
semi-quavers  that  only  the  improvisator-soul  can  divine 
it,  yet,  so  full  of  strange,  sweet  melody  and  pathos,  ren- 
dered in  their  marvelously  tuneful  voices,  it  is  no 
wonder  a suppresssed  emotion  begins  to  communicate 
itself  through  the  audience.  Fiery  prayers  increase  the 
spiritual  temperature.  These  are  full  of  pathos  and 
frequently  close  with : “ Please,  Sir,  Lord  Jesus,  do  dis 


58  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


here  thing  what  yo’  pore  ole  sarvant  ax  yo’  fer.”  Ejac- 
ulations,  groans  and  a measured  tapping  of  heels  on 
the  bare  floor  becomes  general. 

Snatches  of  song  and  more  prayers  prepare  the  way 
for  the  sermon.  Words  cannot  picture  the  fervor  of  it, 
the  facial  expression,  the  wild,  funereal  cadences  of 
voice. 

One  that  I heard  during  March,  1899,  *n  one  °f  the 
earliest  settled  and  most  cultured  parts  of  Mississippi, 
was  preached  by  a typical  African,  very  black,  much 
white  in  his  prominent  eye,  long  under  jaw  and  the  in- 
side of  his  hands  a light  cream  color.  A favorite  ges- 
ture was  to  hold  the  palms  out,  towards  the  audience. 
He  wore  a clerical  black  suit,  but  around  his  neck,  just 
under  the  coat  collar,  a flaming  red  scarf  appeared,  the 
ends  hanging  over  his  waistcoat.  The  occasion  was  the 
funeral  of  a respectable  colored  man,  Felix  Jackson, 
who  had  died  on  the  plantation  which  I was  then  visit- 
ing, and  whose  body  was  in  front  of  the  pulpit. 

The  preacher  began  by  saying,  “ I doan’  fool  my  time 
’way  much  er  preachin’  funeral  sermons.  I’se  got  sum- 
phin’  better  to  do  in  dis  here  worl’.  Fse  in  er  sing’ler 
persishun  here  ter  day.  Yo’  all  is  Baptis’  an’  I is  Meth- 
odis’ ; but  I think  I can  prove  dat  my  doctrin’  is  de 
correc’  one.  I done  studied  all  de  ologies  wid  dat  eend 
in  view.  I been  studied  geology,  an’  zoology,  an’  soci- 
ology, an’  ethnyology,  an’  Christianology.  I’se  read 
Demosthenes,  an’  Cicero,  an’  Plato,  an’  Moses,  an’ 
Josephus  an’  Jehosaphat  an’  all  de  udder  translaters  er 
de  Bible.  But  all  dat  ain’  here  ner  dar ; it  doan’  ’mount 
ter  nothin’  in  der  presence  er  yer  daid  an'  when  yer 


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59 


A Negro  Sermon 

think  er  de  jedg'men'  day,  (whining)  Brer  Felix  Jack- 
son  doan'  cyar  no  more  'bout  it.  He  done  gone  whar 
yer  cyan't  go  wid  'im;  er — er — (groans).  Yer'll  neber 
see  'im  no  more  er  follerin'  behine  he  mule  in  der  fieF  ; 
yer'll  neber  see  'im  agin  er  cornin'  'long  der  road  ter  dis 
here  church ; yer'll  neber  see  'im  gwine  inter  his  house 
ter  his  wife  an'  little  chilluns  when  de  day's  wuk's  done 
(moans,  screams). 

“ Brer  Felix  Jackson's  body's  in  dat  coffin  'fore  yer. 
But  he  ain'  dar ! O — oh  ! No! — L-o-rd ! He  done  rise! 
He  done  rise  wid  taller  (pallor)  on  his  face  (shrieks), 
to  meet  de  'possle  Matthew,  an'  de  'possle  Mark,  an'  de 
'possle  Luke,  an'  de  'possle  John.  An'  ebry  one  on  'em 
say,  'Felix  Jackson,  what  yer  been  doin'  in  de  life  yer 
jes'  lef ? ' Oh!  Lo-r-d!  brudderin'  dat's  er  solem'  mo- 
men'  ! (groans) . Got  ter  face  de  'possles  an'  'count  fer 
yer  deeds  done  yere  on  de  yearth!  Ebry  one  on  'em 
knowed  'im,  dough  he  ain'  take  his  body  wid  'im.  De 
Word  say  what  some  folks  kin  go  to  glory  widout  dyin' 
— translated  dey  calls  it.  But  brudderin,  / say  whedder 
yo'  dies  er  yer  doan’  die,  somewhar  betwix  dis  worl'  an' 
de  nex'  yer  got  ter  lose  de  body.  Our  daid  brudder 
done  got  ter  de  presence  er  der  angel  Gabrell,  an'  Ga- 
brell  he  say,  ‘ Brer  Felix  Jackson,  what  yer  been  doin’ 
in  de  udder  worl'  ? ' But  de  angel  know,  an'  Brer  Jack- 
son  know,  he  kin  gib  er  good  'count  er  hisseU.  Brer 
Jackson  ain'  got  no  taller  (pallor)  on  his  face  den.  De 
angel  done  tech  it  wid  glory,  an'  glory  ter  God ! he  go 
right  in!  (shouts). 

“ But  what  yer  niggers  gwine  ter  do  when  yer  stan's 
whar  Brer  Jackson  done  stan'  ? What  yer  gwine  ter 


6o 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


do  when  yer's  on  yer  coolin'  boa'd  lak  he  done  bin? 
What  yer  gwine  ter  answer  when  yer  call  on  fer  yer 
sins  what  yer  done  while  yer's  awalkin'  armin'  ? Some 
er  yer  say  dar's  white  sins  an’  dars  black  sins ; but  doan' 
fool  yerselves ! Dar  ain'  no  meaner  sinner  ner  a nigger 
when  he  gits  ter  sinnin' ; an’  sin  is  sin  whedder  it's 
white  folks'  sin,  or  black  folks'  sin ; an'  yer  got  ter  quit 
yer  meanness  if  yer  eber  means  ter  git  ter  glory.  (Yes, 
Lord!)  ; fer  de  trumpet'll  be  er  soundin'  an'  de  jedg- 
men'  day'll  be  on  yer  lak'  er  thief  in  de  night.  Whar'll 
yer  be,  sinners,  when  de  graves  is  er  openin'  an'  de  daid 
is  er  risin?  (Eyes  rolling,  palms  out.)  O — Oh  ! L-o-r-d! 
whar'll  yer  be  when  Brer  Jackson'll  be  er  risin  wid  er 
boa'd  (board — his  coffin  lid)  ober  his  face!  Whar'll  yer 
be  den ! er-er-er!  " (Wild  excitement.) 

Women  sprang  to  their  feet  with  unearthly  screams 
and  began  to  rend  their  clothes,  upon  which  other  sis- 
ters, whom  “ the  Sperit  had  not  got  " yet , held  the  fren- 
zied hands.  Some  went  into  trances  and  fell  on  the 
floor;  others  grappled  with  the  shouters,  trying  to  “ hold 
them  down."  Failing  in  this  they  laid  them  on  their 
backs  and  sat  upon  them. 

During  all  this  violent  demonstration  the  preacher 
continued  his  sermon,  gradually  cooling  down  his  hear- 
ers. The  men  did  not  shout,  but  sat  with  the  “ holy 
laugh  " on  their  faces,  ejaculating  fervently,  tapping 
their  feet  in  metre,  and  under  as  intense,  if  less  noisy, 
excitement  as  the  women.  The  trancers  stayed  where 
they  fell  until  they  regained  consciousness;  then  they 
related  with  wild  inflection  and  gesticulation  what  the 
angel  Gabriel  had  “ done  tole  'em  " while  their  spirits 


A Mississippi  Negro  Baptizing.  See  page  bi. 


A Negro  Sermon  61 

sojourned  between  heaven  and  earth.  My  friend  and 
I sat  surrounded  by  the  distracted  multitude  trembling 
with  fear,  not  knowing  what  moment  we  would  be 
stunned  by  a blow  or  crushed  by  a falling  body.  When 
the  climax  of  wildness  was  reached,  a family  servant 
of  my  hostess  pushed  her  way  to  us  through  the  strug- 
gling throng  and  touching  my  companion  on  the  shoul- 
der said : “ Miss  Hattie,  yo’  an’  Miss  Belle  had  better 
leave.  It’s  er  girtin'  dangerous  here."  We  beat  a 
hasty  retreat  and  did  not  feel  secure  until  we  were  once 
again  under  the  sheltering  roof  of  the  old  plantation 
home. 

At  the  close  of  the  protracted  meetings  the  baptizings 
begin.  Multitudes  assemble  on  the  banks  of  a pond,  or 
creek,  or  river,  and  the  candidates  are  led  out  into  the 
depths  by  the  pastor  and  the  deacons.  It  requires  a 
heavy  squad  for  the  shouters  are  more  unmanageable 
in  the  water  than  in  the  church.  Some  of  the  members 
are  baptized  twice  in  successive  years  as  their  conver- 
sion is  found  not  to  be  genuine  the  first  time. 

It  is  customary  among  the  colored  people  to  preach 
the  funeral  sermon  of  a deceased  church  member  or 
relative  several  weeks,  or  even  months,  after  the  death, 
— just  as  is  convenient.  These  are  particularly  prom- 
inent occasions,  calling  for  extra  “ finery  ” and  parade. 
Everybody  who  can  afford  it  is  newly  gowned,  and  the 
“ siety  ” to  which  the  departed  friend  belongs  is  con- 
spicuous. The  society  in  the  church  represents  the 
club-spirit  of  the  negro.  The  wife  of  the  deceased  is 
permitted  to  sit  as  chief  mourner  at  the  funeral  sermon, 
provided  she  has  not  married  again  before  that  cere- 


62  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

mony.  In  the  event,  however,  that  another  spouse  has 
been  taken,  and  she  had  yet  had  the  effrontery  to  occupy 
the  chief  seat,  the  deacons  lead  her  in  shamefacedness 
and  deep  disgrace  to  the  rear  of  the  church.  The  same 
rule  applies  to  the  husband  of  “ de  ceasted.” 

Some  of  the  widows  are  gay  indeed.  One  of  uncle 
Kinch’s  ex-slaves,  a few  years  ago,  went  to  Canton  on 
business  and  called  to  pay  her  respects  to  my  aunt.  In 
course  of  conversation  the  latter  asked : “ What  is  the 
news  down  at  Vernon,  Hester  ?”  Stuffing  her  hand- 
kerchief into  her  mouth  to  prevent  an  explosion  of 
laughter,  she  giggled  out  hysterically,  “ Nuthin’ 
strange,  Miss  Henretter!  Jes’  my  husban’  die  las’ 
week ! ” 

One  day  I asked  an  old  colored  woman  who  was 
doing  house  work  for  us,  “ aunt  Burley,  how  many 
children  have  you  had?”  “ Nineteen,”  she  answered 
laconically.  “ How  many  have  died  ? ” was  my  next 
question.  “ All  but  two,”  she  replied.  “ You  have  been 
unfortunate,  aunt  Burley,”  was  my  sympathetic  re- 
joinder. “ Ugh ! chile ! I think  I’se  been  pow’ful 
lucky!  she  exclaimed  with  a triumphant  shrug  of  her 
shoulders  and  a satisfied  twist  of  the  ends  of  the  ban- 
danna handkerchief  that  adorned  her  woolly  head. 

In  negro  life,  as  among  all  lower  races,  the  woman  is 
the  slavish  subject  of  the  man.  It  used  to  be  declared 
on  a plantation,  after  the  war,  that  the  only  man  who 
did  not  whip  his  wife  was  the  man  whose  wife  whipped 
him.  It  was  said  to  be  pitiable  to  see  these  wives  come 
to  the  old  master  for  protection.  “ I want  yo*  to  make 
Zeke  stop  beatin’  me,  marster!  I can’t  stan’  it  no 


A Negro  Sermon  63 

longer ! ” one  would  complain.  “ I don’t  see  what  I 
can  do,”  would  be  the  answer.  “ I have  no  authority ; 
he  is  as  free  as  I am.  You  will  have  to  go  to  the  Freed- 
man’s Bureau  about  it.”  “ What  I got  ter  do  wid  de 
Bureau ! Yo’  allers  did  ’low  dat  he  shouldn’t  whip  me 
when  he  b’longed  ter  yo’  ! ” All  that  a planter  could 
do  under  the  circumstances  was  to  threaten  to  put  the 
man  off  his  place ; but  this  did  not  remedy  the  evil,  for, 
if  he  left,  he  took  his  family  with  him. 

The  tyranny  of  the  husband  over  the  wife  largely 
destroys  the  sacredness  of  the  unity  of  the  two  lives, 
and  brings  marriage  into  disrepute.  A negro  woman, 
who  is  the  mother  of  several  children  although  unmar- 
ried, upon  hearing  of  the  wedding  of  a colored  girl 
living  on  the  plantation  of  a friend  of  mine  in  Louisiana, 
exclaimed  scornfully : “ Dat  nigger  sho  was  er  fool  ter 
git  married ! she  doan’  know  what  trubble  she  is  er  git- 
tin’  inter.  I allers  sade  I was  er  gwine  ter  be  er  ole  maid 
an’  I is ! ” A most  appalling  looseness  of  morals  exists 
among  the  negroes. 

Recently  an  investigation  was  made  into  the  causes 
of  the  excessive  death-rate  of  the  colored  people.  This 
inquiry  was  conducted  under  the  supervision  of  Atlanta 
University,  assisted  by  graduates  from  other  colleges 
and  universities  for  the  higher  education  of  the  negro, 
such  as  Fisk,  Berea,  Lincoln,  Spilman,  Howard  and 
Meharry.  Conferences  were  subsequently  held  to  as- 
certain the  social  and  physical  condition  of  the  race. 
After  a close  study  of  the  question,  involving  accurate 
comparisons  of  statistics  gleaned  from  different  cities, 
and  a personal  visitation  to  the  homes  of  numerous 


64  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


negroes,  it  was  declared  that  this  mortality  is  not  the 
result  of  diseases  produced  by  unsanitary  surroundings, 
but  is  due  to  the  colored  people's  “ disregard  of  the 
laws  of  health  and  morality."  Valuable  papers  were 
read,  entirely  void  of  race  prejudices,  making  a frank 
acknowledgment  of  the  degradation  of  the  blacks,  and 
expressing  an  earnest  desire  for  remedy.  Eugene  Har- 
ris, of  Fisk  University,  one  of  the  most  broad-minded 
negroes  attending  the  conference,  stated : “ The  consti- 
tutional diseases  which  are  responsible  for  our  unusual 
motality  are  often  traceable  to  enfeebled  constitutions 
broken  down  by  sexual  immoralities.  This  is  fre- 
quently the  source  of  even  pulmonary  consumption, 
which  disease  is  to-day  the  black  man's  scourge. 

“ According  to  Hoffman,  over  25  per  cent  of  the 
negro  children  born  in  Washington  City  are  admittedly 
illegitimate.  According  to  a writer  quoted  in  Black 
America,  ‘ in  one  county  of  Mississippi  there  were  dur- 
ing twelve  months  300  marriage  licenses  taken  out  in 
the  county  clerk's  office  for  white  people.  According 
to  the  proportion  of  population  there  should  have  been 
in  the  same  time  1,200  or  more  for  negroes.  There 
were  actually  taken  out  by  colored  people  just  three.' 
James  Anthony  Froude  asserts  that  70  per  cent  of  the 
negroes  in  the  West  Indies  are  born  in  illegitimacy.  Mr. 
Smeeton  claims  that  ‘ in  spite  of  the  increase  of  educa- 
tion there  has  been  no  decrease  of  this  social  cancer.'  " 

It  should  be  remembered  that  a race,  like  an  individ- 
ual, has  its  period  of  youth.  The  African  in  America 
has  not  yet  advanced  beyond  that  age.  We  must  not  ex- 
pect too  much  of  him  at  once.  It  has  taken  many  cen- 


A Negro  Sermon  65 

turies  to  bring  the  Anglo-Saxon  to  his  present  imperfect 
ethical  development.  It  will  not  take  less  time  to  perfect 
the  negro, — and  whoever  reckons  for  him  without  con- 
sidering the  thickness  of  his  skull  and  the  length  of  his 
under  jaw,  the  relative  smoothness  of  his  brain  and  the 
amount  of  gray  matter  at  his  nerve  centres  will  be  dis- 
appointed. 

It  is  higher  ethical  training  from  the  pulpit  and  in 
the  schools  that  the  negro  needs.  He  likes  a preacher 
and  a teacher  of  his  own  color.  While  this  is  well  in 
that  it  gives  him  a leader  near  enough  to  his  own  level 
to  be  in  sympathy  with  him,  it  has  the  disadvantage 
of  depriving  him  of  close  and  constant  contact  with  the 
standards  to  which  an  African  must  come,  if  he  sur- 
vives in  an  Anglo-Saxon  civilization. 

This  is  the  “ negro  problem  ” — part  of  it.  What  shall 
be  done  with  it  ? “ The  slow  process  of  the  ages  ” is 

the  message  that  comes  to  our  reflection.  Meanwhile 
those  who  care, — and  there  are  many  in  the  South  who 
do, — vote  more  money  for  the  public  schools,  and  help 
the  negro  to  build  his  churches,  and  wait — because  they 
do  not  see  what  else  to  do.  The  end  of  another  century 
will  be  time  enough  at  which  to  take  the  next  reckoning 
of  what  American  civilization  has  done  for  “ Our 
Brother  in  Black.” 


CHAPTER  VII 


A HIGHER  LIFE 

Rather  the  ground  that’s  deep  enough  for  graves. 

Rather  the  stream  that’s  strong  enough  for  waves. 

Than  the  loose  sandy  drift 
Whose  shifting  surface  cherishes  no  seed 
Either  of  any  flower  or  any  weed, 

Whichever  way  it  shift. — Anon. 

When  I was  sixteen  years  old  an  invitation  was  re- 
ceived from  some  relatives  in  Oxford,  Mississippi,  to 
attend  the  Commencement  exercises  at  the  State  Uni- 
versity. This  was  my  first  entrance  into  society  as  a 
young  lady.  My  wardrobe  consisted  of  inexpensive 
Swiss  and  organdie  dresses  trimmed  with  some  old  laces 
that  mother  had  rescued  from  the  wreck  of  time.  My 
appearance  was  that  of  a woman  and  long  since  the 
decision  had  been  made,  to  “ put  away  childish  things.” 
My  girlhood  griefs  were  buried  out  of  sight. 

The  desire  of  my  heart  had  been  to  lead  the  life  of  a 
thoroughly  independent  creature;  but  I soon  found 
that  it  seemed  absurd  to  differ  from  other  persons. 
Now  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  drift  with  the  tide. 
I laughed  and  talked  and  acted  like  the  women  about 
me ; but  there  was  a sting  in  it  all  to  which  the  world 
was  not  blind.  My  society  chat  had  a current  of  sar- 

66 


A Higher  Life  67 

casm,  my  merriment  a tinge  of  bitterness.  A knowl- 
edge of  card-playing  had  been  gained  while  attending 
school  in  Canton,  and  my  first  lesson  in  dancing  was 
taken  in  such  extreme  youth  that  it  is  impossible  to  re- 
call it.  During  Christmas  holidays  there  were  always 
several  parties  given  in  the  neighborhood  of  Vernon, 
and  in  summer  there  were  numerous  out-of-door  festiv- 
ities. I attended  them  all  and  often  danced  through  a 
winter  night  and  a long,  hot  summer  day  when  not  over 
ten  years  old.  Dancing  was  a part  of  a Southern  girl's 
education.  It  was  as  natural  as  eating  or  laughing. 
After  a young  lady  had  made  her  debut,  she  would  soon 
become  “ a wall-flower  ” in  society  if  she  did  not  dance. 
On  going  to  Oxford  it  was  an  easy  thing  for  me  to  fall 
in  with  the  trend  of  custom.  The  days  were  divided 
between  playing  croquet  with  the  University  students 
and  returning  fashionable  calls;  the  nights  were  given 
to  games  of  euchre  and  attending  entertainments. 

The  last  and  greatest  social  function  of  the  season 
was  the  Commencement  ball.  Mother  had  unearthed 
an  old  ante-bellum  blue  silk  and  put  it  in  my  trunk  for 
an  emergency.  This  was  now  brought  forth  and  labori- 
ously transformed  into  an  evening  costume.  The  stains 
of  years  were  covered  up  with  the  inevitable  lace  or  hid- 
den by  sprays  of  flowers.  My  escort  called  at  ten 
o'clock  in  a carriage  with  another  youthful  couple  and 
we  went  to  the  ballroom.  The  dignified  custom  of 
chaperonage  was  then  nearly  obsolete.  My  program 
was  filled  out  and  I danced  straight  through  it  until 
the  last  strain  of  music  ended  with  the  advent  of  the 
sun  next  morning.  With  me  nothing  has  ever  been 


68 


A Slaveholder's  Daughter 


done  by  halves.  Whatever  has  been  undertaken  at  all 
has  been  undertaken  with  intensity. 

The  summer  at  Oxford  was  the  beginning  of  gaieties 
that  continued,  almost  without  interruption,  for  three 
years.  The  winters  were  spent  at  my  uncle’s  home  in 
Canton  and  in  Jackson  with  very  dear  cousins.  Another 
visit  was  made  to  New  Orleans  under  happier  circum- 
stances. In  summer  my  friends  visited  me  at  the  plan- 
tation. While  in  the  country  we  rode  on  horse-back, 
had  buggy  drives  and  out-door  games ; went  on  fishing 
and  camping  excursions;  attended  picnics  and  barbe- 
cues ; gave  dinners  and  teas,  and  exchanged  visits  with 
two  delightful  families  who  had  guests  with  them 
throughout  the  warm  months.  These  families  and  ours 
had  only  recently  become  acquainted  as  they  lived  miles 
away  from  us;  but  distances  are  small  considerations 
when  “ life  is  new  ” and  pleasure  the  one  pursuit  in 
existence. 

My  stays  at  home  were  comparatively  brief  during 
these  three  years ; but  while  there  my  reading  was  con- 
tinued and  mother  and  I managed  to  do  a great  deal 
of  sewing  for  the  negroes.  My  oldest  brother  had  one 
year  at  the  University  and  immediately  after  secured  a 
position  in  a mercantile  establishment  in  the  northern 
part  of  the  state.  During  my  visits  to  the  towns  there 
was  a ceaseless  round  of  balls,  theatres,  receptions  and 
card  parties,  nearly  every  one  of  which  I attended ; from 
the  Governor’s  inaugural  entertainment  at  the  Mansion 
to  an  impromptu  dance  in  a private  home. 

Those  were  fateful  months.  The  foundations  of  ill- 
health  were  laid  which  haunted  me  for  fifteen  years. 


A Higher  Life  69 

Often  in  freezing  weather  my  thick  shoes  and  heavy 
clothing  were  put  aside  for  thin  slippers  and  gauze 
dresses  and  bare  neck  and  arms.  After  dancing  till  heat 
or  fatigue  became  unbearable  a rush  would  be  made 
into  the  deadly  night  air,  with  only  a filmy  lace  shawl 
thrown  over  my  shoulders  for  protection. 

There  were  few  days  in  those  three  years  in  which 
I did  not  have  a desperate  fight  with  my  soul.  Con- 
scious of  not  living  up  to  my  high  conceptions  of  life, 
I hated  myself  and  abhorred  the  way  my  time  was 
spent.  The  truth  forced  itself  upon  me  that  theatres 
were  rarely  elevating,  that  the  trail  of  the  serpent  was 
over  every  card,  that  round-dancing  was  demoralizing 
and  that  many  of  the  young  men  who  danced  with  me 
were  not  worthy  of  my  friendship.  Night  after  night 
on  returning  from  an  entertainment,  I have  sat  before 
the  fire  pouring  out  my  contempt  for  myself  and  all  my 
world  in  scathing  denunciation,  always  ending  with  the 
moan  that  had  been  in  my  heart  since  childhood,  “ What 
is  there  for  me  to  do?  Life  is  so  empty,  so  unsatisfy- 
ing ! I wish  I had  never  been  born ! ” The  girls  who 
kept  the  vigils  with  me  would  greet  my  torrent  of  grief 
and  rebellion  with  peals  of  laughter.  Bessie  Fearn,  my 
cousin  and  constant  companion,  a most  brilliant  and  fas- 
cinating young  woman,  would  say,  “ It  is  impossible 
for  me  to  understand  you.  How  can  you  see  any  harm 
in  cards  or  dancing  or  theatres  ? I am  as  untouched  in 
spirit  to-night  as  a child  could  be ! ” In  later  years, 
when  a personal  knowledge  of  Christ  came  to  her,  these 
things  in  which  she  once  saw  no  “ harm  ” palled  upon 
her  and  in  renunciation  of  them  her  life  became  a glad 


7° 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


song  of  consecration  until  the  time  came  of  “ entering 
into  rest  ” where  her  eyes  beheld  “ the  King  in  his 
beauty  ” in  “ the  land  that  is  very  far  off.” 

After  the  last  fierce  struggle  with  the  finer  elements 
of  my  being,  a definite  determination  was  made  to  aban- 
don the  shallow,  aimless  life  that  had  been  entered 
upon; — and  it  was  done , — suddenly  and  forever.  It 
was  concluded  further  that  I must  go  to  work,  that  an 
occupation  uplifting  and  strengthening  must  be  secured 
if  every  family  tradition  was  shattered  and  if  my  life 
were  forfeited  in  the  attempt. 

Father  and  I had  always  been  congenial  except  along 
certain  lines.  In  the  light  of  after  experiences  we  both 
became  wise  enough  to  avoid  all  splitting  issues.  Up 
to  this  time,  however,  the  depths  of  his  convictions  con- 
cerning work  for  women  had  never  been  sounded. 
Mother  believed  in  me  utterly.  She  was  my  devoted, 
changeless,  unquestioning  ally.  Father,  on  the  contrary, 
with  all  his  gentleness  and  affability,  was  a severe  critic 
and,  at  times,  a most  sarcastic  opponent.  Consequently, 
whenever  an  embryo  scheme  was  on  hand,  he  was  in- 
variably sought  in  order  to  get  an  expression  of  opinion, 
regardless  that  his  views  might  be  totally  different  from 
mine.  When  a child  rest  never  came  to  me  until  every 
important  occurrence  of  my  daily  life  had  been  related 
to  him,  heedless  of  the  consequences  of  the  confidence. 

He  had  been  terribly  grieved  over  my  indulgence  in 
round-dancing.  At  the  country  festivities,  I had  been 
allowed  to  attend  in  childhood,  only  the  dignified  quad- 
rilles of  earlier  times  were  in  vogue.  It  had  not  oc- 
curred to  him  that  my  inclinations  might  reach  out 


A Higher  Life  71 

tendrils  towards  the  customs  of  my  own  day.  He  had 
often  tried  to  dissuade  me  from  round-dancing,  but 
was  unable  to  extract  a promise  that  it  would  be  given 
up.  However,  when  my  decision  was  reached  to  dance 
no  more  I went  at  once  to  him  and  announced  it.  “ Well, 
my  daughter,”  he  remarked,  surveying  me  calmly, 
“ you  do  not  deserve  a particle  of  credit,  for  you  do  not 
stop  because  it  is  right,  but  because  you  are  disgusted.” 
This  diagnosis  of  the  case  was  accepted,  but  with  a 
tremendously  offended  ego. 

Soon  after  this  encounter,  father  was  again  inter- 
viewed. Broaching  the  subject  abruptly  I said:  “ Life 
has  grown  very  tiresome  to  me  and  some  change  must 
be  effected.  It  is  my  intention  to  work  at  some  em- 
ployment that  will  make  it  possible  for  me  to  support 
myself.”  Father  looked  at  me  a little  dazed,  and  an- 
swered: “Work?”  with  a high-tide  inflection  on  the 
word.  “ Work?”  with  renewed  emphasis — “ and  may 
I ask  of  what  nature  your  work  will  be  ? ” 

“ Certainly,”  was  my  quick  reply,  “ I intend  to  teach 
school.”  " indeed  ! ” said  father,  with  a peculiar  drawl 
of  the  prefix  which  would  have  sent  terror  to  my  soul 
when  a child. 

“ Yes,  sir!  ” came  my  answer  with  decision,  “ I am 
going  to  teach  school.” 

“ But  you  forget,”  he  exclaimed,  making  a desperate 
effort  to  control  the  quaver  in  his  voice  and  to  hide 
the  tremor  of  his  eyelids  that  revealed  the  storm  in  his 
heart,  “ you  forget  that  I am  able  to  give  you  a support. 
You  forget  that  you  are  my  only  daughter.  Do  you 
mean  to  tell  me  that  you  are  going  to  teaching  ? I will 


72  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

never  consent  to  it ! ” — and  he  walked  off  with  an  air 
which  told  too  plainly  that  the  conference  was  ended. 

Without  being  in  the  least  dismayed,  and  saying  not 
a word  to  any  one,  I put  on  my  sunbonnet  and  gloves 
and  started  forth  determined  to  settle  the  school  ques- 
tion. There  were  few  children  in  the  immediate  neigh- 
borhood and  the  majority  of  these  were  very  poor;  but 
wherever  there  was  a shadow  of  a chance  for  success, 
their  homes  were  visited  and  a request  made  for  pupils. 
An  upstairs  bedroom  in  our  dwelling  was  transformed 
into  a schoolroom,  and  the  following  Monday  morning 
I entered  upon  my  career  as  teacher.  Father  did  not 
say  one  word.  His  courtesy  was  never  at  fault ; besides, 
he  had  discovered  in  me  a certain  will-force,  inherited 
from  both  “ sides  of  the  house,”  and  an  indomitable 
energy  which  he  began  to  respect.  At  the  end  of  the  term 
he  said  to  me : “ Allow  me,  daughter,  to  congratulate 
you  upon  your  fine  success.”  Mother  was  radiant  with 
delight  from  the  beginning,  for  she  understood  my  long- 
ings. Everything  was  made  to  bend  to  my  wishes.  The 
children  were  permitted  to  eat  their  lunches  on  the  long 
front  gallery  upstairs,  and  to  romp  in  the  yard  under 
the  closely  matted  branches  of  the  great  cedars  and 
among  the  trailing  periwinkle  vines  whose  green  leaves 
carpeted  almost  every  foot  of  ground.  There  were  only 
seven  pupils  in  my  school  and  their  tuition  fees  amounted 
to  but  $12  a month;  but  those  twelve  dollars  were  as 
large  as  twelve  full  moons  in  my  eyes  and  as  precious 
as  blood-drops.  Among  the  seven  children  there  was 
only  one  at  all  well  advanced ; while  teaching  him  I had 
a good  chance  to  review  text-books  and  to  again  get  into 


73 


A Higher  Life 

the  habit  of  study.  While  managing  the  others  an  ex- 
cellent opportunity  was  afforded  for  the  cultivation  of 
the  grace  of  patience,  which  was  sorely  needed,  and  of 
gaining  some  practical  knowledge  of  the  methods  of 
teaching. 

I was  nineteen  years  old  at  the  beginning  of  my  little 
private  school. 


CHAPTER  Vm 


THE  PUBLIC  SCHOOL  MA'AM 

Nothing’s  small! 

No  lily- muffled  hum  of  a summer  bee, 

But  finds  some  coupling  with  the  spinning  stars; 

No  pebble  at  your  feet,  but  proves  a sphere ; 

No  chaffinch,  but  implies  the  cherubim ; 

Earth’s  crammed  with  heaven, 

And  every  common  bush  afire  with  God. 

— Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning. 

At  the  close  of  my  private  school  session  a determina- 
tion was  made  to  expend  my  energies  no  longer  on  so 
few  children  and  with  such  small  financial  returns ; but 
that  an  application  should  be  made  for  the  public  school 
where  there  would  be  more  pupils  and  a larger  salary. 
Once  more  my  plans  were  revealed  to  father.  His 
amazement  and  opposition  were  greater  this  time  than 
before.  “ Teach  the  public  school ! ” he  echoed  after 
me.  “ The  public  school ! ” incredulously.  “ Why,  I 
would  not  have  you  brought  in  contact  with  its  rougher 
elements  and  subjected  to  dictates  that  would  surely 
come,  for  all  the  world ! A little  private  school  in  the 
seclusion  of  our  home  was  a different  matter  entirely. 
Nothing  could  induce  me  to  consent  to  your  going  out 
as  a public  school  teacher.” 


74 


The  Public  School  Ma’am 


75 


The  next  day  I called  on  the  trustees  of  the  public 
school  at  Vernon  and  asked  to  be  their  teacher  for  the 
autumn  term.  They  were  astonished,  but  readily  con- 
sented. Keeping  my  own  counsel,  one  of  my  brothers 
was  induced,  in  the  course  of  a week,  to  drive  me  to 
Canton  where  a call  was  made  on  the  County  Superin- 
tendent of  Education.  With  straightforwardness  I said, 
“ Mr.  S,  it  is  my  intention  to  support  myself.  You  will 
oblige  me  forever  by  granting  me  a first-class  certificate 
for  a public  school  without  requiring  an  examination. 
It  has  been  over  four  years  since  my  school  days  ended. 
It  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  stand  an  examination ; 
but  it  is  equally  certain  that  I am  competent  to  teach 
the  Vernon  school  and  make  a success  of  it.”  The 
superintendent  smiled  indulgently,  filled  out  a certificate 
and  handed  it  to  me.  The  law  then  in  reference  to  ex- 
aminations was  not  as  rigid  as  now. 

With  a joyous  spirit  my  face  was  turned  homeward 
and  my  official  document  was  displayed  with  all  the 
pride  of  a conqueror.  At  the  opening  of  the  fall  term 
I was  seated  in  my  chair  of  state  viewing  with  satisfac- 
tion the  half  hundred  boys  and  girls  who  greeted  me. 
They  were  of  all  shapes  and  sizes ; from  young  men 
with  beards  on  their  faces  to  roly-poly  urchins  just  out 
of  bibs.  Oh ! what  a time  we  had ! The  boys  chewed 
tobacco  during  school  and  spat  upon  the  floor.  Every 
now  and  then  an  especially  genteel  fellow  walked  to  the 
nearest  window  to  expectorate.  The  girls  were  piously 
and  prettily  demure  while  they  thought  I was  looking 
at  them;  but  the  instant  my  gaze  was  removed  they 
threw  spit-balls  at  the  infant  class  and  love  notes  to  the 


y6  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

giant  rustics  who  were  wrestling  with  their  quids  and 
slates. 

They  were  unclassified;  there  were  not  ten  books 
among  them  which  were  alike.  The  grading  was  found 
to  be  an  unending  task,  for  every  week  there  was  a new 
set  of  pupils.  The  children  in  the  different  families 
took  turns  in  doing  the  work  and  resting  from  their 
mental  labors.  Before  the  close  of  the  session,  however, 
several  solid  classes  had  been  formed  and  impressed 
with  the  importance  of  attending  school  regularly. 
These  stood  by  me  to  the  end  and  delighted  my  heart 
by  making  rapid  progress. 

The  struggle  with  the  “ submerged  tenth  ” continued. 
There  were  fights  among  them  at  recess  and  while  go- 
ing home  in  the  afternoon.  Some  of  the  girls  swore 
like  troopers  and  the  boys  struck  them  for  it.  Only 
my  presence  in  the  midst  of  the  hordes  prevented  rough 
language  and  blows.  Court  was  held  as  regularly  as 
school  and  justice  administered  according  to  testimony. 

It  was  impossible  to  use  my  judgment  in  selecting 
studies  for  the  pupils  as  their  parents  bought  the  books 
that  suited  them  and  refused  to  get  others.  One  day  a 
boy  handed  me  a note  from  a patron  which  ran  as  fol- 
lows: “Mis  I doant  warnt  mi  Sun  ben  To  studdie 

Nuthin  but  reedin  wrighten  spelin  and  Figgers  Re- 
specfuly  Willium  L .” 

A terrible  strain  on  my  patience  was  realized  in 
teaching  a fat,  little,  five-year-old  boy  his  alphabet.  It 
seemed  impossible,  after  all  the  other  letters  were  con- 
quered, for  him  to  learn  “ u.”  Seizing  his  chubby  hand 
in  mine,  the  invincible  character  was  written  in  his  palm 


The  Public  School  Ma'am 


77 


with  a piece  of  chalk.  Then  holding  it  before  his  eyes 
I said,  “ Now,  John,  this  is  u.”  Puckering  up  his  face 
as  if  in  mortal  agony  he  gave  a loud  yell  that  ended  in 
a heart-broken  wail,  and  sobbed  out,  “ No,  Miss  Belle, 
dat  ain’t  me-e-e-ee ! ” 

Some  of  the  boys  were  manly,  home-spun  fellows 
with  imagination.  One  of  them,  on  a memorable  morn- 
ing, was  given  the  word  squirrel  to  spell  and  define. 
Tom  rattled  the  spelling  off  in  grand  style  with  startling 
vehemence.  Then  came  a dead  pause.  Looking  up  I 
said : “ Well,  now,  the  definition  ? What  is  a squirrel  ? ” 
“ A varmint.”  “ Oh  ! that  won’t  do ! Try  again.  What 
is  a squirrel  ? ” “ Somethin’  what  runs  up  a tree.”  “ No, 
sir!  that  won’t  do.  Try  again.  What  is  a squirrel?” 
A long  pull  at  his  “ gallusses,”  a puzzled  searching 
of  the  ceiling  with  a look  that  suddenly  broke  into  light, 
then  a glad  shout : “ Oh  ! I know  ! A squirl’s  some- 
thin’ what  eats  nuts  with  his  tail  standin’  up ! ” 

When  the  spring  opened  all  the  large  boys  had  to  stop 
school  to  work  in  the  crop.  My  salary  depended  on  the 
number  of  pupils  in  attendance,  dropping  some  months 
as  low  as  $18.00,  and  never  going  beyond  $25.00 — the 
daily  attendance  ranging  from  five  to  fifty.  Regular 
visits  were  made  to  all  my  patrons  in  the  effort  to  in- 
spire them  with  the  importance  of  educating  their  chil- 
dren. Poor  little  homes  were  entered  and  parents  met 
who  had  lived  within  two  miles  of  our  plantation  since 
my  early  childhood,  but  who  were  unknown  to  me.  At 
first  this  was  an  ordeal,  but  by  degrees  my  interest  in 
the  children  deepened,  and  the  poverty  and  ignorance 
of  their  home-protectors  became  a positive  burden  on 


78  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


my  soul ; profound  pity  began  to  push  out  less  noble 
feelings. 

Those  were  days  of  quiet  growth  for  me.  In  that 
little  school-house,  which  was  not  more  than  a hut, 
among  those  rude  girls  and  boys  was  learned  my  first 
real  lesson  in  self-command.  In  the  beginning  there 
was  a fire  of  insubordination  smouldering  in  the  hearts 
of  even  the  meekest  looking  of  my  undisciplined  rabble 
that  only  needed  a spark  to  set  it  into  a blaze.  There 
was  one  particularly  mild-mannered  boy,  with  large, 
dreamy  eyes  and  the  languid  air  of  a “ Vere  de  Vere.” 
He  never  knew  his  lessons.  Finally  my  patience 
reached  its  last  gasp  and  I told  him  if  he  failed  the  next 
day  he  would  have  to  suffer  punishment.  He  was  ut- 
terly deficient  and  was  called  forward.  Thrusting  his 
hand  into  his  pocket  and  drawing  out  a large,  open 
knife  he  struck  at  me.  My  movements  were  quick 
enough  to  seize  his  wrist  and  divert  the  blow,  and  my 
hands  were  strong  enough  to  wrest  the  knife  from  his 
grasp.  He  was  dealt  with,  after  the  Scriptural  sugges- 
tion, according  to  his  sin.  After  that  his  scholarship 
was  unexcelled  and  his  conduct  irreproachable. 

Another  severe  test  soon  came  to  me.  There  was  a 
tall,  muscular  fellow,  seventeen  years  old,  who  made  a 
dismal  failure  on  a certain  day.  He  was  commanded 
to  stay  in  at  recess  and  study.  A heavy  frown  gathered 
but  he  said  nothing.  When  the  noon  hour  came  he  ate 
his  lunch,  picked  up  his  books  and  started  for  the  door. 
“ Where  are  you  going,  Jim  ? ” I asked.  “ Home ! ” he 
muttered.  “ If  you  do  go ,”  was  my  reply,  “ remember 


The  Public  School  Ma’am 


79 

that  you  cannot  come  to  school  to  me  again.”  He  made 
no  answer  and  went  out. 

The  next  morning  Jim  was  in  his  seat  with  head  bent 
low  over  his  books.  After  calling  the  school  to  order 
the  incident  of  the  previous  day  in  connection  with  Jim 
was  related  and  the  case  taken  up.  Turning  to  the  of- 
fender I said  sternly,  “ Take  your  books,  sir,  and  go 
home ! ” The  boy's  head  sank  lower  and  lower.  There 
was  a profound  silence.  Looking  up  finally  in  an  abject, 
pleading  fashion  he  said : “ Miss  Belle,  please  forgive 
me  for  acting  so  bad  yesterday.  I'm  truly  sorry.  If 
you'll  let  me  stay  I promise  never  to  disobey  you  again.” 
The  amende  honorable  was  accepted,  peace  reigned  and 
the  spirit  of  insurrection  was  quelled  forever.  Jim  was 
ever  after  my  loyal  vassal,  helping  me  to  dismount  on 
rainy  mornings  and  the  first  in  the  afternoons  to  bring 
my  horse  to  the  stump  which  was  my  stepping-block 
to  reach  the  saddle,  meekly  handing  my  whip  as  the 
reins  were  gathered  for  the  homeward  gallop. 

I became  Argus-eyed  and  learned  to  control  my 
pupils  by  sheer  will-power.  A rebuke  was  seldom 
given,  a scolding  never.  They  were  simply  looked  at . 
The  highest  class  moved  along  steadily;  when  it  was 
finally  surrendered,  at  the  close  of  my  regime,  it  would 
have  been  entitled  to  enter  the  Sophomore  class  in  a 
college.  Coming  in  contact  with  such  rough  specimens 
of  humanity  and  expending  so  much  energy  in  the  effort 
to  control  them,  told  heavily  upon  my  nervous  system. 
Every  afternoon,  on  returning  home,  during  my  earlier 
experiences,  my  first  thought  was  to  seek  the  privacy 


8o 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


of  my  room.  Falling  upon  the  bed  in  exhaustion  my 
pent-up  emotions  found  vent  in  a passion  of  tears.  I 
had  always  regarded  crying  as  an  evidence  of  weakness 
and  when  quite  a girl  determined  that  no  one  should 
ever  doubt  my  strong-mindedness ; so,  on  going  to  the 
supper-table,  my  appearance  would  be  freshened  up  and 
my  face  wreathed  with  the  blandest  of  smiles.  I studied 
until  midnight  regularly  to  keep  ahead  of  my  pupils; 
mastering  books  taken  up  by  them  that  had  not  been 
taught  me  in  my  school  days,  and  applying  myself 
closely  to  mathematics  which  I had  unwisely  neglected 
while  at  the  Academy,  for  history,  rhetoric,  philosophy, 
English  literature  and  kindred  branches. 

For  four  years  in  heat  and  dust,  in  rain  and  mud  I 
trudged  to  that  little  school-house  by  the  roadside.  I 
drank  from  the  neighboring  creek  when  the  cistern  was 
dry  or  filled  with  debris,  in  either  of  which  conditions 
it  was  usually  found.  On  freezing  days  I crouched 
over  a cracked  stovq  that  radiated  little  heat,  with  the 
snow  drifting  down  upon  my  head  through  the  defect- 
ive roof.  In  the  winter  season  I went  again  and  again 
to  find  the  house  empty,  to  come  back  home  weary  and 
disgusted,  with  my  little  brother  trotting  by  my  side 
sputtering  indignantly  because  he  had  not  been  allowed 
to  stay  at  home  “ like  other  folkses  childerns.,, 

Sometimes  mid-summer  sessions  would  be  taught  to 
accommodate  the  larger  pupils  who  had  to  be  in  the 
field  until  the  crop  was  “ laid  by.”  The  heat  was  almost 
intolerable,  the  days  seemed  unending.  The  drowsy, 
germ-laden,  suffocating  hours  would  be  lived  through 
in  dreariness  and  suffering : but,  hard  as  it  all  was,  noth- 


The  Public  School  Ma'am  81 

in g would  be  taken  in  exchange  for  the  self-knowledge 
and  self-power  that  I gained  in  this  struggle. 

The  money  that  was  made  during  the  first  session 
was  invested  in  a course  of  study  in  the  Normal  College, 
at  Iuka,  Mississippi.  At  the  close  of  the  term  a visit 
was  made  to  the  Southern  Chautauqua,  at  Monteagle, 
Tennessee.  Portions  of  other  vacations  were  spent  in 
Canton  taking  private  lessons  in  mathematics  from  my 
friend,  Mrs.  Amelia  Drane,  a teacher  of  wide  experi- 
ence and  unusual  ability.  She  was  the  only  woman,  at 
that  time,  who  had  graduated  at  Soule's  Commercial 
College,  in  New  Orleans. 

'In  the  afternoons,  at  the  close  of  her  school,  she 
would  stand  with  me  at  the  blackboard  or  sit  near  me 
for  hours  giving  the  most  patient  instruction  regardless 
of  weariness  or  the  hot,  chalky  atmosphere.  When  our 
engagement  was  ended  and  when,  according  to  contract, 
the  requisite  amount  of  money  was  brought  to  remuner- 
ate her,  the  tears  sprang  to  her  eyes  and  laying  her 
kindly,  blessed  hands  in  mine  she  cried : My  dear  child, 

do  you  suppose  I would  accept  a dollar  from  you?  Some 
day,  if  it  is  ever  needed,  you  may  pay  me,  but  not  now.” 
Only  in  eternity  can  this  noble,  unselfish  friend  realize 
what  she  did  for  me  in  helping  to  make  smooth  the 
paths  which,  at  that  time,  stretched  bare  and  stony 
through  my  struggling  life.  Such  a deed  as  that  is  far 
above  price ; it  can  find  a recompense  only  “ in  kind.” 

' Some  time  after  my  experience  in  teaching  was  be- 
gun, a new  railway  brought  into  existence  the  little 
town  of  Flora,  within  four  miles  of  father's  plantation. 
I was  invited  to  accept  the  position  of  assistant  teacher 


82  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

in  the  public  school  there;  a male  principal  having  al- 
ready been  installed.  As  the  salaries  were  still  depend- 
ent upon  the  number  of  pupils  in  attendance,  my  remu- 
neration would  not  have  been  an  inducement  had  not 
a promise  been  made  that  it  should  be  brought  up  to  a 
certain  monthly  sum  by  the  patrons.  Board  was  offered 
in  a pleasant  family  with  the  understanding  that  I 
should  every  night  supervise  the  study  hours  of  the  little 
daughter. 

The  offer  was  accepted  and  the  term  finished  without 
a jar  in  the  school-room.  Going  away  from  home  to 
board  and  playing  the  governess,  after  nightfall,  was 
a repugnant  prospect;  but  my  association  with  the 
happy  household  was  so  agreeable  and  my  small  pupil 
so  gentle  and  studious  that  the  dread  faded  away,  and 
a friendship  which  has  suffered  no  change  in  the  pass- 
ing years  was  the  fortunate  result. 

The  public  school  session  closed  in  April — there  were 
only  five  months  allowed  by  the  law.  I opened  an  inde- 
pendent private  school  in  the  Methodist  church  build- 
ing. The  principal  of  the  public  school  occupied  the 
school-house.  Three  months  were  passed  pleasantly. 
The  following  fall  another  private  school  was  taught 
in  Flora,  which  was  conducted  as  easily  as  the  first. 
My  only  hardship  was  in  having  to  buy  all  the  wood  that 
was  used  and  in  making  the  fires.  Finally,  I was  re- 
lieved of  the  latter  through  the  goodness  of  a kind- 
hearted  patron. 

Father  was  elected  to  the  lower  house  of  the  legis- 
lature again  and  served  in  the  session  of  1880.  In  1891 
he  was  sent  to  the  state  senate.  My  oldest  brother  was 


The  Public  School  Ma'am 


83 

still  in  business  in  North  Mississippi.  My  second 
brother  had  entered  the  Agricultural  and  Mechanical 
College,  but,  his  health  failing,  in  a few  months  he  went 
to  Texas  for  a dryer  climate  and  sunnier  fortunes.  My 
third  brother,  after  a course  at  a Business  College,  as- 
sumed complete  management  of  the  plantation,  develop- 
ing a decided  talent  for  “ turning  a dollar/' 

Our  financial  affairs  were  now  on  a firmer  basis  but 
none  of  us  had  thought  of  relieving  mother.  While  in 
the  school-room,  at  Flora,  one  day  the  conviction  sud- 
denly seized  me  that  she  was  ill.  The  impression  grew 
with  the  hours.  In  the  afternoon  I mounted  a horse 
and  alone  rode  home  to  have  my  presentiment  con- 
firmed. In  an  agony  of  remorse  I threw  myself  by  the 
sick-bed  and  cried : “ O,  mother,  please  forgive  me  for 
all  my  thoughtlessness  and  selfishness ! In  these  years 
since  the  way  was  opened  for  me  to  make  money  my 
only  purpose  has  been  to  cultivate  my  mind,  and  it  was 
forgotten  that  you  were  growing  old,  and  now  you  have 
failed  through  work  and  care ! ” 

A cook  was  hired  before  sunset  and  never  since  that 
sad  day  has  the  home  been  without  one,  nor  without 
a woman  to  do  the  housework  as  well  as  servants  for 
harder  forms  of  labor. 


CHAPTER  IX 


EDUCATIONAL  MATTERS 

If  you  would  not  cease  to  love  mankind, 

You  must  not  cease  to  do  them  good. 

— Marie  Eschenbach. 

By  degrees  the  public  school  won  its  way  to  favor  in 
the  South.  It  triumphed  “ over  prejudice,  over  pov- 
erty, over  opposition  engendered  by  a large  negro  pop- 
ulation which  pays  little  tax  and  whose  schools  are  a 
heavy  burden  upon  the  property  owners.”  In  the  years 
immediately  following  the  re-establishment  of  the  “ free 
school/’  after  the  civil  war,  it  was  considered  scarcely 
respectable  to  patronize  it,  and  the  person  who  under- 
took to  teach  one  was  brave  indeed. 

To-day  there  is  no  position  more  highly  honorable 
than  that  of  a public  school  teacher.  This  revolution 
has  been  the  blossoming  of  thirty-two  years  of  budding 
sentiment, — from  1868  to  1900.  For  fifteen  years  the 
system  was  at  low  tide  in  Mississippi.  In  1886  a com- 
plete change  was  made  in  the  school  law  by  the 
legislature.  Teachers  were  required  to  stand  rigid 
examinations  before  certificates  would  be  issued.  Su- 
perintendents were  ordered  to  apportion  salaries  accord- 
ing to  the  grade  credential  held,  the  executive  capacity 
of  the  teacher,  and,  though  not  dependent  as  formerly 

84 


Educational  Matters 


85 

on  the  number  of  pupils  in  attendance,  the  size  of  the 
school  was  taken  into  consideration.  Payments  were 
made  promptly  at  the  end  of  each  month  and  new  life 
was  infused  into  methods. 

The  benefits  of  the  Peabody  educational  fund  were 
restored  to  Mississippi  in  1893 ; institutes  were  held  and 
in  1896,  five  summer  normals  were  established  for  the 
white  and  an  equal  number  for  the  black  people.  The 
moneys  for  the  support  of  the  public  schools  in  each 
of  the  years  1898-99  amounted  to  $950,000,  including 
the  poll-tax,  which  is  $2.00  per  head.  If  there  is  a 
deficit  in  the  school  fund  the  state  treasury  supple- 
ments it.  When  needed,  special  local  taxes  can  be  levied 
by  the  district;  also  by  the  Board  of  Supervisors  for 
continuing  the  school  year  longer  than  the  uniform  term. 

The  legislature,  which  met  in  the  winter  of  1900, 
appropriated  one  million  dollars  to  common  schools  for 
the  year  1900;  also  for  1901.  Appropriations  to  the 
state  colleges  were  very  liberal.  All  of  this,  added  to 
local  taxation  for  extending  terms,  etc.,  will  run  the 
public  expenditure  to  $2,000,000  for  each  year. 

The  school  fund  has  steadily  increased  notwithstand- 
ing disastrous  agricultural  conditions  and  the  facts  that 
the  census  of  1894  showed  that  there  were  100,000  more 
negro  children  in  Mississippi  than  white.  During  the 
scholastic  year  of  1896-97,  367,579  pupils  were  enrolled 
in  the  public  schools;  of  that  number  170,811  were 
white  and  196,768  were  negroes, — the  latter  being  in 
excess  of  the  whites  25,957.  The  sum  set  apart  for  the 
support  of  the  schools  is  prorated  among  the  educable 
children  of  the  state  irrespective  of  color. 


86  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

The  proportional  number  of  negro  tax-payers  in 
Mississippi  is  pitiably  small ; consequently,  some  idea 
can  be  easily  gained  of  the  relative  amount  of  taxes 
paid  by  the  white  people  for  the  support  of  colored 
schools.  It  is  difficult  to  determine  what  is  the  best 
policy  to  pursue  in  the  distribution  of  the  school  fund, 
as  the  races  are  very  unevenly  distributed  over  the  state. 
The  negroes  are  massed  in  the  productive  districts — the 
Delta,  the  river  counties  where  planting  is  conducted 
as  extensively  as  in  ante-bellum  days.  By  a strange 
misadjustment,  according  to  the  Constitution,  in  those 
counties  where  the  negro  population  so  heavily  prepon- 
derates, third  grade  teachers  receive  higher  pay  than 
first  grade  instructors  in  the  counties  where  the  white 
people  are  in  excess.  From  the  report  of  a State  Super- 
intendent of  Education  the  following  facts  are  quoted : 
“ In  the  white  counties  the  whites  are  three-fourths  of 
the  population ; in  the  black  counties  the  whites  are  one- 
fifth  of  the  population. 

“ The  ten  white  counties  received  $87,226  from  the 
state  distribution.  Of  this  sum  they  paid  in  polls 
$30,166,  or  38  per  cent  of  the  whole. 

“ The  ten  black  counties  received  from  the  state  dis- 
tribution $170,353,  of  which  they  paid  in  polls  $32,459, 
or  only  19  per  cent  of  the  whole.  The  white  counties 
paid  practically  the  same  amount  in  polls  as  the  black 
counties,  while  the  black  counties  received  nearly  twice 
as  much  from  the  state  distribution.” 

In  the  Superintendent’s  report  of  1891-93,  for  Mis- 
sissippi, it  was  declared : “ It  is  a matter  of  common 
assertion  by  the  uninformed  throughout  the  state  that 


As  in  Ante-bellum  Days.  See  page  Sb. 


Educational  Matters 


87 

the  negroes  attend  school  better  than  the  whites.  The 
statistics  for  1892-93  show  that  73  whites  in  every  100 
of  school  age  were  enrolled  in  our  public  schools,  while 
less  than  60  in  every  100  negroes  were  enrolled.  The 
enrollment  of  both  races  was  64.8  per  cent  of  all  the 
educable  children.  This  is  a remarkable  enrollment 
when  we  consider  that  the  legal  school  age  in  Missis- 
sippi covers  16  years,  from  5 to  21. 

“ According  to  the  report  of  the  Commissioner  of 
Education  (1889-90)  Kansas  in  1890  enrolled  27.98 
in  every  100  population,  which  was  the  highest  per- 
centage in  the  United  States,  the  average  being  20.27. 
The  enrollment  of  Mississippi  for  i892-’93  was  25.97  in 
every  100  population  which  places  us  second  in  the 
Union  when  both  races  are  considered. 

“ But  our  enrollment  of  whites  was  28.61  in  every 
100  of  white  population,  which  is  greater  than  the  en- 
rollment of  Kansas  in  1890  by  63  in  every  3,000  of  the 
population.  It  is  thus  shown  that  our  white  population, 
as  measured  by  enrollment,  are  availing  themselves  of 
the  educational  advantages  provided  by  the  state  to  a 
greater  extent  than  the  people  of  any  state  in  the 
Union.” 

In  the  same  report  it  was  stated  that  Mississippi  “ led 
among  the  Southern  states  and  is  ranked  eight  among 
the  states  in  the  Union  in  the  amount  expended  for  edu- 
cation in  proportion  to  the  valuation  of  property.”  The 
State  Superintendent  of  Education  for  Alabama  makes 
this  statement:  “Alabama  expends  annually  for  her 

schools  and  education  more  than  one  million  dollars ; 
while  her  taxes  amount  scarcely  to  two  millions.”.  . . . 


88 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


It  is  said:  “ The  state  of  New  York  has  an  assessed 
valuation  greater  than  all  the  thirteen  Southern  states 
combined  (Missouri  not  included),  while  New  England 
and  the  Middle  States  together,  with  an  area  only  two- 
ninths  as  large  as  the  thirteen  Southern  states,  and  with 
a population  about  equal  have  three  times  as  much  as- 
sessed property. 

“ It  is  apparent,  therefore,  that  with  equal  levies  these 
wealthier  states  can  maintain  schools  for  ten  months 
in  the  year,  while  in  the  South  the  length  of  the  term 
will  not  average  four  months.” 

In  all  comparative  statistics  between  the  North  and 
the  South  on  the  subject  of  education,  or  any  other, 
it  is  well  to  remember  the  sparseness  of  population  in 
the  Southern  states.  For  instance,  in  the  city  of  New 
York  alone  there  are  1,515,301  inhabitants ! while  in  the 
entire  state  of  Mississippi  there  are  but  1,289,600  per- 
sons ; there  are  but  three  cities  of  10,000  or  over,  and  but 
two  others,  with  a population  over  5,000. 

In  a paper  entitled,  “ What  the  South  Is  Doing  for 
Education  and  What  Education  Is  Doing  for  the 
South,”  read  by  Dr.  W.  T.  Harris,  U.  S.  Commissioner 
of  Education,  in  Atlanta,  Georgia,  October  26,  1895, 
the  progress  of  education  was  briefly  and  interestingly 
summed  up  as  follows : 

“ In  the  past  twenty  years  the  South  has  increased 
fifty-four  per  cent  in  population,  but  its  school  attend- 
ance has  increased  130  per  cent;  that  is  to  say,  more 
than  twice  as  fast  as  the  population.  This  means  that 
there  is  a larger  proportion  of  the  population  kept  in 
school  during  the  year ; while  in  1874  an  average  of  14^ 


Educational  Matters 


89 

out  oi  every  hundred  were  enrolled  in  school,  ten  years 
later  (1884)  the  average  had  risen  to  i8|  per  hundred, 
and  in  1894,  or  twenty  years  later,  the  number  enrolled 
is  twenty-two  in  the  hundred.  Of  all  the  people  of  the 
South,  white  and  black,  one  in  five  is  in  attendance  on 
school  for  some  portion  of  the  year.  This  is  a large  pro- 
portion of  the  people  to  be  in  school.  Even  in  Saxony, 
which  excels  all  countries  of  Europe  in  its  school  en- 
rollment, the  per  centum  in  school  is  only  twenty. 

“ Even  after  making  allowance  for  the  fact  that  the 
South  has  a larger  proportion  of  children  in  its  popula- 
tion than  any  other  section  of  the  Nation,  this  remains 
a wonderful  showing  for  the  wisdom  of  self-sacrifice 
of  the  Southern  people.  They  are,  indeed,  building  a 
‘ New  South  ’ and  its  corner-stone  is  the  schooi.,, 


CHAPTER  X 


THE  SOUTHERN  PROBLEM 

According  to  the  order  of  nature,  men  being  equal,  their 
common  vocation  is  the  profession  of  humanity. — Rousseau. 

An  effort  was  made  to  secure  from  the  auditors  and 
treasurers  of  the  thirteen  Southern  states  an  official 
statement  of  the  relative  amounts  of  taxes  paid  by  the 
whites  and  the  negroes.  Every  state  of  whom  the  in- 
quiry was  made  was  heard  from ; but  the  information 
desired  was  unattainable  as  few  keep  a separate  list  of 
taxes  paid  by  the  two  races.  They  concurred,  however, 
in  the  following  statement : “ The  great  bulk  of  the  pub- 
lic school  fund  in  the  South  is  derived  from  taxes  paid 
by  white  people.  Yet,  that  fund  is  distributed  on  a 
basis  of  population,  so  that  the  negro  receives  vastly 
more  than  his  proportionate  share.  And  the  laws  gov- 
erning this  taxation  and  distribution  were  voluntarily 
enacted  by  the  Southern  whites  themselves.” 

The  amount  of  property  listed  for  taxation  by  the 
white  citizens  of  North  Carolina,  as  per  returns  for 
the  year  1896,  was  $221,138,146;  for  the  colored 
$8,516,353.  The  poll-taxes  paid  by  the  whites  for  the 
same  year  were  $260,865.58;  by  the  negroes,  $100,- 
103.74.  Taxes  accruing  from  general  property  of 
whites,  $399,554.48;  from  that  of  the  blacks,  $15,- 


90 


The  Southern  Problem 


9i 


349.76.  Taxes  from  polls  and  general  property  were 
given  to  the  support  of  the  public  schools,  but  no  dis- 
crimination was  made  as  to  the  races. 

The  total  enrollment  of  colored  children  in  the  public 
schools  of  South  Carolina  for  1898  was  150,787;  there 
was  spent  on  their  education  from  state  funds  $204,- 
383-30. 

The  white  people  of  Arkansas  in  1898  paid  taxes 
to  the  amount  of  $2,621,538.31;  the  negroes,  $132,- 
11 1. 20, — about  one-twentieth  of  the  whole  tax — but  no 
distinction  of  race  was  made  in  distribution  of  the  school 
fund. 

These  instances,  although  probably  very  much  more 
to  the  credit  of  the  negroes'  capacity  for  aiding  in  the 
support  of  the  government  than  some  other  Southern 
states  would  show,  are  sufficient  to  illustrate  what  the 
South  is  doing  to  lift  the  colored  race  by  education. 

Very  many  poll-taxes  of  the  negroes  are  paid  in  elec- 
tion years  by  white  aspirants  for  office  who  want  the 
colored  vote. 

The  laws  of  each  Southern  state,  while  they  provide 
for  the  education  of  every  youth  as  nearly  as  possible, 
yet  make  distinct  provisions  for  the  establishment  of 
separate  schools  for  white  and  black  children.  Co-edu- 
cation of  the  races  is  not  tolerated.  It  is  an  unwise 
friend  of  the  negro  who  attempts  to  alter  this  custom.  It 
is  futile  to  advance  a plea  for  the  unreasonableness  and 
unrighteousness  of  race  prejudice.  It  is  enough  to  say 
that  it  exists  in  the  South  and  that  it  will  persist  there. 
It  will  not  be  disputed  that  the  Anglo-Saxon  and  the 
African  in  America  occupy  the  relation  of  superior  and 


92 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


inferior  races.  The  inappreciable  number  of  the  latter 
in  the  population  of  the  Northern  states  precludes  the 
question  of  social  equality, — just  as  nobody  thinks  of  it 
in  connection  with  the  Chinese  scattered  throughout  the 
South.  In  some  Southern  states  the  negroes  far  out- 
number the  whites,  and  are  so  numerous  in  all  of  them 
as  to  constitute  what  is  called  a “ problem.”  Until  the 
present  generation  they  have  always  existed  there  as 
slaves.  Nowhere  on  the  earth  have  two  races  who  bear 
or  have  borne  the  relation  of  master  and  slave  existed 
together  as  social  equals;  nor  do  superior  and  inferior 
so  co-exist  anywhere  until  the  superior  is  degraded  to 
the  level  of  the  inferior.  It  is  doubtful  if  there  is  nat- 
ural race  prejudice;  that  is,  if  white  and  black  children 
were  reared  together  from  the  cradle  as  equals  whether 
they  would  feel  an  antagonism  of  stock.  Therefore, 
never  will  the  South  consent  that  its  tender,  unformed 
youth  shall  have  the  opportunity  in  the  school-room  to 
assimilate  with  an  element  that,  in  its  present  state,  can 
only  drag  down  the  high  ideals  which  the  Anglo-Saxon 
has  wrested  from  the  centuries.  Better  than  any  other 
the  South  knows  that  if  slavery  was  an  evil  for  the 
negro  it  was  infinitely  more  a curse  to  the  whites  who 
owned  the  slaves.  The  blacks  leave  their  deadly,  im- 
moral trail  wherever  massed  in  large  numbers. 

This  must  be  said,  notwithstanding  a most  earnest 
desire  for  the  advancement  of  the  negro  by  education 
and  all  other  wise  means ; and  it  is  said  with  an  old-time 
affection  which  is  a redeeming  legacy  of  the  days  of 
master  and  slave,  which  was  a tie  of  love  often  stronger 
than  blood,  whose  power  a stranger  cannot  understand ; 


A typical  Negro  Cabin  of  the  South.  See  page  gs. 


The  Southern  Problem 


93 


and  which,  alas ! will  be  known  no  more  when  the  rem- 
nants of  ante-bellum  days  are  gathered  to  their  fathers. 

There  is  a plantation  in  Mississippi  where  until  re- 
cently five  generations  of  the  old  slaves  have  dwelt  as 
tenants  upon  the  soil  where  most  of  them  were  born, 
and  to  which  they  clung  with  an  attachment  equal  to 
that  of  the  owners,  and  as  much  more  pathetic  as  it  was 
more  helpless.  44  Old  Handy  " came  into  the  library 
one  winter  afternoon  a few  years  ago,  to  pay  his  44  re- 
spec's  ” to  his  “ white  folks."  44  I'se  pow'ful  glad  to  see 
yo'  lookin'  so  well,  Marse  William,  I sho  is!  " 44  Yes, 
Handy,  I am  well,  but  I begin  to  think  I'm  getting  aged. 
I've  not  realized  it  all  along,  but  you  and  I have  lived 
quite  awhile,  Handy ! " “ That's  so,  Marse  William, 

an',  please  Gord,  we’ll  live  a pow'ful  time  yit.  Yo'  ain’ 
broke  a bit,  suh,  not  a bit.  How  long's  it  ben,  Marse 
William,  sence  yo'  bought  me?"  44  Fully  fifty  years; 
we  were  both  almost  boys  then,  Handy.  You  are  older 
than  I am,  you  know."  “ Do  yo'  'member  dat  day  yo' 
cum  to  look  at  dat  batch  o'  ole  marse'  niggers  what  was 
put  up  to  be  sole  ? " 44  Oh,  yes,  I remember  it  well ! It 
was  the  first  time  I ever  bought  a hand."  44  When  yo' 
look  at  me  as  if  yo'  had  sum  intrus'  in  me,  Marse  Gil- 
lispie  he  say,  4 Lor',  Bill,  yo'  doan'  want  dat  nigger ; 
he’ll  neber  do  yer  no  good ; he's  dat  fractious  he's  in  de 
cane-brake  near  'bout  de  bes'  part  o'  his  time.'  Member 
dat,  Marse  William?"  44  Just  the  same  as  if  it  were 
yesterday."  44  An'  den  yo'  kinder  sarch  me  all  ober  wid 
yer  eyes,  an'  at  las'  yo'  say,  4 He  doan'  look  lak  a bad 
nigger,  I doan'  b'lieve  he'd  run  away  ef  he  wur  treated 
right."  44  Yes,  and  I bought  you  then  and  there!" 


94  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

“ An'  I ain’  neber  run  away,  ’fore  Gord,  from  dat  day 
to  dis!  Is  I,  Marse  William?  ” “ No,  no,  Handy,  you 
and  I have  had  no  trouble  all  these  years, — and  now  we 
are  old  men,  not  boys  any  longer.”  “ Folks  talk  ’bout 
hard  times ! / ain’  neber  seed  no  hard  times  sence  I cum 
home  wid  yo’  dat  day.  I’se  had  plenty  ter  eat,  an’  ter 
war,  an’  a house  ober  my  haid  an’  good  lan’  ter  wuk, 
an’  good  white  folks  to  cyar  fur  me.  I doan’  know  de 
meanin’  o’  hard  times.” 

Not  long  after  the  plantation  was  shocked  to  hear 
that  “ Marse  William  ” was  sick,  a thing  they  had  never 
known  to  happen  in  all  the  long  past.  His  present  fac- 
totum, once  his  coachman,  later  his  butler,  brought  a 
cot-mattress,  and  said  firmly  to  the  wife,  “ Miss  Annie, 
I ain’  gwine  ter  leave  Marse  William,  day  ner  night, 
I’m  ’bleeged  to  wait  on  him.  We  ain’  neber  hyeard  o’ 
his  bein’  sick  in  our  lives.  Tom,  dat  grown  boy  o’  mine, 
’ill  sleep  out  in  de  hall  ter  keep  up  de  fires.”  Two  by 
two  others  volunteered  to  be  within  call  in  the  library 
where  they  waited  many  nights. 

Anxiety  deepened  and  soon  groups  of  old  slaves  were 
ever  to  be  found  in  the  hall  down  stairs  waiting  for  the 
latest  word  from  the  sick-room ; moaning  out  to  “ Miss 
Annie  ” or  the  doctor  as  they  passed,  “ Doan’  let  Marse 
William  die ! Who’d  take  cyar  o’  us  ef  he  went.  We 
cyant  gib  him  up ! We  ain’  nebber  knowed  nobody  else.” 

Faithful  old  George  stayed  day  and  night  by  the  bed- 
side of  pain,  till  he  came  out  sobbing  aloud  one  morning 
to  tell  the  waiting  crowds  that  “ Marse  William  ” had 
gone  beyond  the  sound  of  their  voices  into  the  greater 
worlds  where  they  could  not  follow  yet.  Then  the  heart 


The  Southern  Problem 


95 


of  the  plantation  seemed  to  break.  The  oldest  of  the  ex- 
slaves requested  that  they  might  be  “ Marse  William's 
pall-bearers," — and  they  were.  The  rest  of  them  filled 
the  galleries  of  the  church  from  which  he  was  buried, 
and  in  which  for  so  many  years  he  had  been  an  elder ; 
and  to-day  he  is  the  highest  ideal  that  life  has  brought 
to  his  ante-bellum  servants.  Those  who  are  left  are  the 
most  self-respecting  and  respected,  as  well  as  most  ef- 
ficient and  faithful  helpers  on  the  plantation. 

Let  it  be  said  here,  and  said  with  all  the  emphasis 
the  fact  involves,  that  none  of  the  “ outrages  ” which 
have  so  often  disgraced  the  nation  since  the  civil  war 
are  the  deeds  of  the  old  slave,  nor  is  the  “ vengeance  ” 
that  of  the  old  master  and  rarely  that  of  his  sons.  It  is 
the  new  element  of  both  races  that  wars  one  on  the 
other.  This  statement  has  been  made  of  late  many 
times,  in  many  ways,  by  the  Southern  press.  The  fol- 
lowing from  a leading  South  Carolina  journal  fully  ex- 
presses the  sentiment  of  all  in  respect  to  the  men 
engaged  in  the  atrocity  of  lynching : “ They  represent 
Southern  chivalry  as  little  as  the  residents  of  the  New 
York  slums  represent  the  Christian  civilization  of  the 
North.  Ravening  mobs  are  not  composed  of  gentle- 
men." The  “ Atlanta  Constitution  " had  just  said,  in  ref- 
erence to  that  appalling  lynching  in  Georgia,  “ Unless 
public  opinion  in  the  South  begins  to  act  in  an  unmis- 
takable way,  the  lawless  and  ruffianly  element  which  ex- 
ists in  all  communities  will  make  itself  judge,  jury  and 
public  executioner,  and  its  victims  may  be  innocent  or 
guilty.  It  will  only  be  necessary  to  suspect  them  of 
some  crime.  We  shall  have  the  courts  abolished,  and 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


96 

all  classes  of  crime  will  be  punished  by  the  lawless  ele- 
ment. Negroes  will  not  be  the  only  victims.  Whites 
will  fall  under  the  ban  of  ruffianism,  and  we  shall  have 
such  a state  of  things  that  civil  war  will  be  necessary 
to  restore  to  the  courts  and  to  society  their  normal 
functions.” 

Another  journal,  in  reference  to  the  recent  horrible 
occurrence  in  Kentucky  says,  “ It  is  to  the  credit  of  the 
South  that  her  public  men  and  newspapers  have  been  as 
earnest,  if  not  as  bitter,  in  their  criticisms  as  have  those 
of  the  North.  Hardly  a voice  has  been  raised  or  a line 
written  in  condonation  of  the  affair.”  The  people  rep- 
resentative of  the  best  element  throughout  the  South 
are  strongly  opposed  to  lynching  and  deeply  deplore 
outbreaks  of  mob  violence.  They  are  urging  as  a 
remedial  measure  that  as  soon  as  possible  after  a crime 
is  committed  court  shall  meet,  a jury  be  impanelled  and 
inquiry  be  made  into  the  charge.  If  an  indictment  is 
found  that  a short  and  fair  trial  shall  be  held  immedi- 
ately or  as  quickly  as  the  ends  of  justice  may  require.” 

There  is  now  and  has  been  for  a long  time  a feeling 
of  insecurity  in  the  South  wherever  there  are  many 
negroes.  The  ladies  of  a household — especially  in  rural 
districts — are  seldom  left  alone  day  or  night ; and  care 
is  taken  that  they  do  not  linger  late  upon  the  road  when 
walking  or  driving  in  the  afternoons  or  remain  unpro- 
tected anywhere  at  any  hour  for  any  length  of  time. 
Southern  women  have  perfect  faith,  however,  in  the 
power  of  the  courts  to  protect  them  and  believe  that  the 
prompt  enforcement  of  law  is  the  safeguard  of  any  com- 
munity. 


The  Southern  Problem 


97 


That  the  punishment  of  crime  by  any  other  tribunal 
than  the  qualified  and  authorized  one  is  a rapidly  in- 
fectious and  highly  dangerous  lawlessness,  is  proven  by 
the  fact  that  within  the  last  decade  there  has  scarcely 
been  a state  or  territory  in  the  Union  which  has  not 
suffered  from  one  or  more  of  these  atrocities.  The 
question,  therefore,  is  national  in  its  bearings.  Still,  as 
the  South  has  the  bulk  of  the  negro  population,  the  bur- 
den of  the  responsibility  for  the  negro  problem,  of  which 
the  lynching  is  but  one  phase,  rests  there,  and  sooner  or 
later  the  Southern  people  will  settle  it  in  justice  and 
righteousness. 

The  world  is  scarcely  beginning  to  realize  the  enor- 
mity of  the  situation  that  faces  the  South  in  its  grapple 
with  the  negro  problem  which  was  thrust  upon  it  at  the 
close  of  the  civil  war  when  4,500,000  ex-slaves,  illiterate 
and  semi-barbarous,  were  enfranchised.  Such  a situa- 
tion has  no  parallel  in  history.  In  forging  a path  out  of 
the  darkness  there  are  no  precedents  to  lead  the  way. 
All  that  has  been  and  is  being  accomplished  is  pioneer 
states-craft.  The  South  has  struggled  under  its  death- 
weight  for  over  thirty  years  bravely  and  magnani- 
mously. As  an  ex-governor  of  a Southern  state  has 
truly  said : “ The  South  has  her  ills,  her  sins  and  her 
crimes.  What  section  has  not?  The  South  has  had 
and  will  have  violent  shocks  to  her  civilization.  What 
section  has  not?  The  South  has  had  her  sorrows. 
God  knows  they  have  been  grievous  and  hard  to  be  en- 
dured. Whenever  the  South  finds  an  ideal  government 
without  sin,  a people  perfect  in  law  and  perfect  in  its 
enforcement,  the  South  will  do  its  respectful  obeisance 


98  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

and  ask  to  be  led  into  its  broader  civilization  and  its 
better  power.  Till  then,  and  not  till  then,  we  shall  stand 
abreast  of  all  other  sections,  claiming  as  broad  a civiliza- 
tion as  any  and  challenging  those  without  sin  to  cast 
the  first  stone  at  us.” 

“ What  shall  be  done  with  the  negro  ? ” far  out- 
weighs for  the  American  people  all  questions  of  terri- 
torial expansion,  for  we  have  the  African  as  a factor 
of  our  internal  relations,  our  domestic  policy  and  our 
every  day  life.  It  has  been  thought  by  some  social 
scientists  that  a process  of  amalgamation  would  grad- 
ually absorb  the  negro. 

There  is  no  state  in  the  South  where  legal  miscegena- 
tion exists.  Intermarriage  is  rendered  void,  the  con- 
tracting parties  are  driven  from  a community  and  the 
minister  who  performs  the  ceremony  is  subjected  to 
punishment.  Besides,  instinct  and  tradition  oppose  in- 
surmountable barriers  to  such  a solution. 

As  to  the  extent  of  illegal  mixture  of  the  races  the 
following  figures,  from  a reliable  source,  will  afford 
some  light : “ Of  the  whole  African  population  728,099, 
in  1890,  in  the  North  Atlantic,  North  Central  and  West- 
ern states,  28  per  cent  were  mulattoes.  In  the  South 
Atlantic  and  the  South  central  divisions  at  this  time, 
there  were  6,741,941  persons  of  African  descent,  of 
whom  13  per  cent  were  mulattoes.” 

Another  proposal  has  been  the  colonization  of  the 
negro  in  Africa  and  our  newly  acquired  possessions. 
Left  to  himself,  as  in  Hayti,  the  negro  has  always  de- 
generated, and  proved  incapable  of  self-government. 
Whatever  attempts  have  been  made  at  colonization,  as 


' 


Cotton  Picking  as  Now  Done.  See  page  qq. 


The  Southern  Problem 


99 


in  Liberia,  have  been  abortive.  The  negro  himself  is 
violently  opposed  to  transportation;  only  the  unsettled 
and  thriftless  want  to  go;  and  as  has  been  said  by  a 
leading  journal,  “If  2,000  were  sent  out  every  week  of 
the  year,  that  number  would  simply  equal  their  natural 
increase  in  this  land.” 

Although  the  death  rate  among  the  negroes  is  great, 
as  has  been  shown  in  a previous  chapter,  it  is  not  prob- 
able that  the  problem  will  be  solved  by  extinction.  Ac- 
cording to  the  last  census  there  were  almost  twice  as 
many  in  the  United  States  as  when  the  civil  war  closed. 

Southern  statesmen  are  trying  disfranchisement  of 
the  colored  men  as  a solution  of  the  vexed  question.  The 
white  people  of  the  South  are  equally  intolerant  of  the 
social  equality  and  the  political  domination  of  the  black 
man.  Every  device  has  been  tried  to  prevent  the  power 
of  his  vote — from  a shot-gun  to  a Constitutional  amend- 
ment. By  the  latter  method,  in  1890,  Mississippi,  with 
an  educational  qualification,  legally  and  peacefully 
ejected  the  masses  of  the  negroes  from  politics.  This 
initiative  has  been  followed  by  South  Carolina  and  by 
Louisiana.  The  South's  representation  in  the  national 
government  is  not  thereby  lessened,  as  it  is  based  upon 
population  and  not  upon  voters. 

This  system  has  worked  admirably,  so  far,  in  sub- 
stituting a rule  of  intelligence  for  that  of  ignorance ; it 
is  worth  the  serious  consideration  of  all  states  that  have 
a large  foreign  population.  Every  year  the  movement 
to  make  the  wishes  of  the  rank  and  file  supreme  is  gain- 
ing ground  with  the  American  people,  as  is  evidenced 
by  the  growth  of  the  initiative  and  referendum  and  by 


IOO 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

direct  primaries.  Only  an  intelligent  suffragist  is  capa- 
ble or  worthy  of  so  high  a prerogative,  and  especially 
must  he  be  educated  in  and  imbued  with  the  spirit  of 
the  American  government.  A large  part  of  the  foreign 
population  that  lands  on  our  shores  is  less  capable  than 
the  negro  of  American  citizenship;  it  not  only  has  no 
more  education  but  must  divest  itself  of  previous  pre- 
dilections as  to  government. 

If  educational  and  property  limitations  of  the  fran- 
chise are  not  sufficient  to  ensure  white  supremacy  at 
the  South  it  could  certainly  be  established  by  the  follow- 
ing plan,  submitted  by  Henry  B.  Blackwell,  of  Boston, 
Mass.  He  says,  “ The  enactment  of  a law  enabling 
women  able  to  read  and  write  to  vote  would  at  once  so 
enlarge  the  political  forces  of  intelligence  and  morality 
as  to  control  the  negro  vote  and  the  illiterate  vote,  ab- 
solutely, in  every  Southern  state,  as  will  be  seen  by  the 
following  figures  taken  from  the  United  States  census 
of  1880,  the  latest  available  ones  for  the  purpose  of  com- 
parison : In  every  Southern  state  but  one  there  are 

more  educated  women  than  all  the  illiterate  voters, 
white  and  black,  native  and  foreign,  combined.  An 
overwhelming  political  preponderance  of  intelligence 
can  be  fairly  and  honestly  attained  at  any  time  by  the 
enfranchisement  of  the  women  who  can  read  and  write, 
ten  out  of  eleven  of  whom  are  white  women. 

“ By  the  last  available  census  there  were,  on  the  pres- 
ent basis  of  universal  male  suffrage,  in  the  Southern 
states  and  District  of  Columbia,  2,947,434  white  voters, 
of  whom  411,900  were  unable  to  write,  and  1,252,484 
colored  voters,  of  whom  951,444  were  unable  to  write. 


The  Southern  Problem 


ioi 


But  in  these  states  there  were  also  2,293,698  white 
women  over  21  who  could  write,  and  236,865  colored 
women  who  could  write.  If  these  two  and  a half  million 
educated  women  were  made  voters,  their  votes  would 
offset  the  entire  illiterate  voters,  both  black  and  white, 
who  number,  all  told,  only  1,363,344,  which  surplus, 
when  added  to  the  2,836,574,  educated  male  voters, 
would  make  an  educated  voting  majority  of  over 
4,000,000/’ 

To  my  mind,  the  solution  of  the  negro  problem  lies 
in  the  establishment  of  the  home  and  in  industrial  educa- 
tion. The  word  home  is  as  foreign  to  the  negro’s  vocab- 
ulary as  to  the  Frenchman’s.  As  a rule  the  colored 
people  dwell  herded  in  their  cabins,  which  usually  con- 
sist of  but  one  room.  In  this  men,  women  and  little 
children  “ live  and  move  and  have  their  being — ” often 
most  numerously.  Remaining  long  in  one  location  is  a 
sort  of  intimation  of  slavery,  so  they  change  their  quar- 
ters frequently.  They,  as  yet,  have  acquired  little  sense 
of  the  dignity  of  ownership.  Prosperity  can  attend  no 
people  who  are  indifferent  to  possessions,  for  this  indi- 
cates a want  of  purpose,  and  a failure  to  grasp  the 
fundamental  principles  of  personal  and  public  welfare. 

There  is,  however,  a more  potential  factor  in  the  de- 
velopment of  the  home  than  the  proprietorship  of  an 
abiding  place,  and  that  is  the  maintenance  of  the  family 
life  in  unity  and  sanctity.  Hon.  James  Brice  has  wisely 
said : “ The  family  is  the  fundamental  problem  of  civili- 
zation.” The  negro’s  condition  will  remain  hopeless 
until  he  acquires  higher  moral  ground.  That  is  the 
secret  of  his  destiny.  This  elevation  will  be  effected 


102 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


through  a truer  concept  of  Christianity.  Stonewall 
Jackson  said:  “ It  is  necessary  to  put  the  strong  hand 
of  the  gospel  under  the  ignorant  African  race  to  lift 
them  up.”  It  is  a matter  of  rejoicing  that  the  negroes 
have  built  since  the  civil  war  19,753  churches,  costing 
over  $20,000,000.  It  is  not  the  church  that  will  redeem 
them,  however,  but  the  spirit  of  God  in  the  church ; the 
possession  of  a religion  that  will  purify  the  life — at  least 
from  the  grossest  sins.  “ The  hope  of  the  black  race,” 
Bishop  Haygood  thought,  “ lies  mainly  in  the  pulpit.” 

Industrial  training,  resulting  in  the  power  to  produce, 
will  lead  to  the  ability  to  gain  and  retain  property,  and 
will  thus  become  an  agent  for  the  acquisition  and  de- 
velopment of  the  home.  The  two  leading  institutions 
in  the  South  for  the  education  of  the  negro  are  Hamp- 
ton Normal  and  Agricultural  College,  at  Hampton,  Vir- 
ginia, and  Tuskegee  Normal  and  Industrial  Institute, 
at  Tuskegee,  Alabama.  The  principal  of  the  latter  is 
Booker  T.  Washington,  who  was  born  a slave,  but  is 
now  the  most  noted  colored  man  in  America,  and  the 
foremost  educator  and  the  leader  of  the  8,000,000  ne- 
groes of  this  country.  The  institute  at  Tuskegee  under 
his  able  and  discreet  management,  has  grown  to  vast 
proportions  and  its  influence  for  good  is  broadly  felt. 

In  the  session  of  1898  it  enrolled  1,047  students ; they 
came  from  twenty-four  states  and  territories  and  from 
two  foreign  countries.  Work  to  the  amount  of  $45,- 
288.10  has  been  done  by  the  students  while  pursuing 
their  course  of  study.  They  cultivate  650  acres  of  land 
besides  keeping  in  constant  operation  twenty-four  other 
industries.  Graduates  from  this  institution  are  now  fol- 


The  Southern  Problem 


103 


lowing  almost  every  industrial  and  professional  avoca- 
tion. By  giving  to  the  world  trained,  self-supporting 
workmen  Booker  T Washington  is  doing  much  to  solve 
the  problem  of  his  race.  He  says,  very  truthfully,  “ In 
our  education  of  the  black  man  so  far,  we  have  failed  in 
a large  degree  to  educate  along  the  very  line  along 
which  most  of  the  colored  people  especially  need  help. 
. . . The  fact  is  that  90  per  cent  of  our  people  depend 
upon  the  common  occupations  for  a living,  and,  outside 
of  the  cities,  85  per  cent  depend  upon  agriculture  for 
support.  Notwithstanding  this  our  people  have  been 
educated  since  the  war  in  everything  else  but  the  very 
things  that  most  of  them  live  by.  . . . First-class  train- 
ing in  agriculture,  horticulture,  dairying,  stock  raising, 
the  mechanical  arts  and  domestic  economy,  will  make 
us  intelligent  producers,  and  not  only  help  us  contribute 
our  proportion  as  tax-payers,  but  will  result  in  retain- 
ing much  money  in  the  state  that  now  goes  outside  for 
that  which  can  be  produced  in  the  state.  An  institution 
that  will  give  this  training  of  the  hand,  along  with  the 
highest  mental  culture,  will  soon  convince  our  people 
that  their  salvation  is  in  the  ownership  of  property,  in- 
dustrial and  business  development,  rather  than  mere 
political  agitation. 

“ The  great  problem  now  is,  how  to  get  the  masses 
to  the  point  where  they  can  be  sure  of  a comfortable 
living  and  be  prepared  to  save  a little  something  each 
' year.  This  can  be  accomplished  only  by  putting  among 
the  masses  as  fast  as  possible,  strong,  well-trained  lead- 
ers in  the  industrial  walks  of  life.” 

It  has  been  said  by  an  educator  of  colored  youth,  in 


104  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

reference  to  ante-bellum  days,  that  “ There  never  was  a 
peasantry  better  trained  in  agriculture  peculiar  to  the 
South,  and  in  the  mechanical  arts  necessary  to  its  suc- 
cessful operation,  than  the  colored  people.  Spinning, 
weaving,  cutting  and  making  garments,  working  in 
iron,  wood  and  leather  were  parts  of  the  industries  of 
every  plantation  of  any  size.”  With  the  introduction 
of  a new  regime  this  form  of  education  was  supplanted 
by  training  in  the  classics  and  professions.  To-day  the 
young  Southern  negro,  born  since  the  war,  en  masse,  is 
the  most  untrained,  inefficient  yeoman  in  existence  in 
any  civilized  country. 

In  the  slave  states  alone,  it  is  said,  the  blacks  have 
281  normal  schools,  238  universities  and  colleges  and 
270  institutions  for  secondary  instruction.  Yet  all  this 
education  has  not  perceptibly  advanced  the  moral  status 
of  the  race. 

It  has  been  proven  that  the  negro  is  able  to  grasp 
the  higher  education;  but  the  number  of  those  who 
seek  it  is  small.  On  the  testimony  of  teachers  among 
the  negroes  it  has  been  stated  that  only  about  six  per 
cent  out  of  the  thousands  who  have  been  instructed  in 
the  great  missionary  schools  in  the  South  have  seized 
the  opportunity  for  advanced  education.  A negro  has 
won  prizes  of  distinction  at  Harvard;  others  have 
graduated  from  leading  colleges  and  universities;  a 
colored  man  has  written  a Greek  grammar ; an  ex-slave 
of  General  Joe  Davis,  of  Mississippi,  graduated  at  Fisk 
University  and  at  Oberlin  and  went  as  a missionary  to 
Africa.  He  has  helped  to  reduce  a native  language  to 
writing,  prepared  a dictionary  and  grammar  of  it,  and 


Weighing  Cotton  in  the  Field.  See  page  105. 


The  Southern  Problem 


io5 

published  a translation  of  much  of  the  New.  Testa- 
ment. 

The  president  of  a State  Normal  College  in  Missis- 
sippi for  the  negroes  says  he  had  a student  who  could 
read  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  consecutive  verses  of 
Homer’s  Iliad  without  one  mistake;  but  it  was  impos- 
sible for  that  same  student  to  copy  a figure  in  analytical 
geometry.  To  others  who  had  mathematical  gifts  the 
languages  were  unattainable.  Of  course,  these  cases  of 
unusual  attainment  are  exceptional. 

In  a lecture  given  in  Memphis,  Tennessee,  February, 
1899,  Judge  James  M.  Greer  presented  a definition  of 
the  negro  that  will  be  endorsed  by  every  Southerner 
who  knew  him,  as  the  judge  did,  in  ante-bellum  days. 
The  one  generation  since  has  not  been  long  enough  to 
materially  change  him,  except  as  he  has  fluctuated  in 
the  chaos  of  his  upheaval  from  slavery  to  the  freedom 
to  follow  his  undisciplined  will  and  his  disorganized 
circumstances.  There  will  be  much  sympathy  with 
these  true  and  kindly  words  of  Judge  Greer:  “ I knew 
him  so  intimately  in  my  own  childhood,  knew  him  as 
the  trusted,  loyal  slave ; knew  him  as  my  friend  and  my 
inferior,  that  I believe  I may  say  to  you  that  he  was  an 
anomaly  in  history  and  a contradiction  in  human  nature. 
If  he  was  wanting  in  settled  purpose  and  determined 
mental  effort,  he  was  also  without  malicious  hatred  or 
puling  complaint.  If  he  had  the  thoughtlessness  of 
childhood,  he  had  also  its  faith.  If  he  was  religious 
without  reason,  he  was  devout  without  hypocrisy.  . . . 
If  he  was  without  fixed  principles  in  his  life,  he  was 
kind  in  his  impulse.  If  he  was  without  the  knowledge 


io6 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


of  books,  he  had  gained  much  from  observation.  If  he 
never  originated,  he  readily  imitated.  If  his  courage 
was  small,  his  rebellions  were  few.  If  his  family  ties 
were  weak  and  his  domestic  life  fickle,  his  humor  was 
great  and  his  charity  enormous.  If  he  was  uncertain 
in  the  line  of  meum  and  tuum,  he  was  generous  in  dis- 
tribution, hospitable  in  the  extreme,  and  improvident 
always.  If  he  was  without  profound  wisdom,  he  was 
also  without  deep  sorrow. 

“ I may  say  of  him  truthfully  that  he  was  a humorist 
without  wit,  a lover  without  constancy,  a poet  without 
words,  a father  without  control,  a husband  without 
rights,  a slave  without  hatred,  a friend  without  equality, 
an  inferior  without  resentment,  a human  without 
ambition,  a man  without  a country.  He  became  a 
soldier  without  discipline,  a politician  without  states- 
manship, and  a freeman  without  ceasing  to  be  a child.,, 


CHAPTER  XI 


EVOLUTION  OF  SOUTHERN  WOMEN 

The  only  conclusive  evidence  of  a man’s  sincerity  is  that  he 
gives  himself  for  a principle.  Words,  money,  all  things  else 
are  comparatively  easy  to  give  away;  but  when  a man  makes 
a gift  of  his  daily  life  and  practice,  it  is  plain  that  the  truth, 
whatever  it  may  be,  has  taken  possession  of  him. — Lowell. 

During  the  Southern  Exposition  in  1884,  my  second 
trip  was  made  to  New  Orleans.  The  world  had 
changed  considerably  to  me  since  my  first  visit : my  eyes 
had  grown  accustomed  to  larger  visions.  Since  begin- 
ning to  teach,  every  question  that  related  to  the  attain- 
ments and  possibilities  of  women  was  of  intense 
interest  to  me;  but  especially  her  developed  power  of 
bread-winning. 

Julia  Ward  Howe  was  lecturing  in  the  city.  She  was 
the  first  woman  I had  ever  heard  speak  before  a public 
audience,  except  students  on  a school  rostrum.  Never 
can  the  eagerness  be  forgotten  with  which  my  feet 
hastened  to  the  hall  where  she  was  to  be  heard,  nor  the 
absorption  with  which  my  listening  ears  drew  in  every 
word,  nor  the  critical  attention  that  was  given  to  every 
detail  of  the  speaker's  appearance,  from  the  lace  cap  that 
rested  on  her  brainy  head  down  to  the  toes  of  her  com- 
mon-sense boots. 

She  spoke  on  “ Woman's  Work."  As  she  talked 

107 


io8 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


brilliantly  and  fluently  my  enchantment  grew.  The  re- 
mark that  she  had  visited  several  foreign  countries  and 
had  addressed  the  women  of  each  in  their  own  tongue 
particularly  impressed  me.  How  far  away  those 
strange  lands  seemed ! How  wonderful  to  be  looking 
at  a person  who  had  really  seen  them ! Going  to  Europe 
had  been  the  dream  of  my  life,  and  here  was  a woman 
who  had  actually  been  there ! For  many  years  an  earn- 
est desire  had  possessed  me  to  behold  a genuinely 
strong-minded  woman, — one  of  the  truly  advanced 
type.  Beautiful  to  realize,  she  stood  before  me ! and  in 
a position  the  very  acme  of  independence — upon  a plat- 
form delivering  a speech ! 

Since  the  development  of  my  reasoning  faculties  I 
had  believed  in  the  rights  of  women,  although  in  an 
article  on  that  subject,  written  at  the  age  of  nineteen, 
I had  affirmed  “ that  we  do  not  ask  for  the  ballot.”  It 
would  have  been  too  shocking,  and  my  radicalism  at  that 
period  was  in  the  chrysalis  state.  There  was  born  in 
me  a sense  of  the  injustice  that  had  always  been  heaped 
upon  my  sex,  and  this  consciousness  created  and  sus- 
tained in  me  a constant  and  ever  increasing  rebellion. 
The  definite  idea  of  the  political  emancipation  of 
woman,  as  a happy  and  logical  solution  of  the  vexed 
question,  did  not  present  itself  to  me  in  a positive  guise 
until  some  time  after  my  entrance  upon  the  list  of 
wage-earners. 

Mother  and  father  had  reared  me  in  a very  liberal 
atmosphere  concerning  the  intellectual  and  political 
status  of  women,  for  they  were  both  advocates  of  woman 
suffrage ; father  was  particularly  ardent.  He  had  often 


Evolution  of  Southern  Women  109 

said  that  it  filled  him  with  humiliation  to  think  that  his 
wife  and  daughter  were  not  his  equals  before  the  law ; 
and  with  indignation  that  the  mother  of  his  children 
could  be  looked  on  in  any  other  light. 

It  gives  me  deep  joy  to  remember  that  later  on  in 
our  experience,  on  mother's  sixty-seventh  birthday,  she 
drove  with  me  four  miles  through  the  country  to  attend 
a suffrage  meeting  which  I addressed.  An  Equal 
Rights  club  was  organized  in  which  mother  assisted. 
Father,  who  was  at  that  time  seventy-one  years  of  age, 
was  made  its  president.  Another  fact  that  I remember 
gratefully  is  that  it  was  my  privilege  to  serve  the  Mis- 
sissippi State  Woman  Suffrage  Association  for  awhile 
as  its  president. 

Notwithstanding  father's  broad-minded  position  in 
the  earlier  days  it  did  not  occur  to  him  that  his  daughter 
might  desire  to  enter  the  field  of  active  modern  workers. 
That  was  “ the  pinch ; " but  since  my  way  had  been 
fought  into  public  school  teaching  he  had  never  opposed 
my  progressive  views  nor  interfered  with  my  under- 
takings. By  gradual  stages  he  became  alive  to  every 
issue  in  which  my  interest  was  involved  and  did  all  in 
his  power  to  further  my  projects.  He  began  to  consult 
my  opinion  on  important  affairs.  Every  family  trouble, 
every  enterprise,  every  hope  was  discussed  between  us. 
Perfect  freedom  of  thought  and  expression  had  been  al- 
lowed me  since  my  birth,  and  absolute  freedom  of  action 
since  my  thirteenth  year.  The  privilege  had  been 
granted  of  selecting  my  own  clothes  and  choosing  my 
own  companions.  After  the  beginning  of  my  teens 
father  and  mother  never  said  to  me,  “ You  shall  do  this,” 


no 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


or  “ You  shall  not  do  that.”  Since  my  clash  of  ideas 
with  father  at  nineteen,  he  has  asked  me  at  the  begin- 
ning of  each  year:  “ Well,  daughter,  what  are  your 
plans?”  Often  when  he  has  been  implored  to  direct 
me  on  certain  subjects  or  to  criticize  my  actions  he  has 
invariably  said:  “ You  must  exercise  your  own  judg- 
ment. I have  perfect  faith  in  your  powers  of  discrim- 
ination.” Mother  endorsed  these  sentiments  fervidly. 

The  freedom  of  my  home  environment  was  perfect, 
but  I recognized  the  fact  that  there  were  tremendous 
limitations  of  my  “ personal  liberty  ” outside  the  family 
circle.  An  instance  of  it  soon  painfully  impressed  my 
consciousness.  Three  of  my  brothers,  the  comrades  of 
my  childhood,  had  become  voting  citizens.  They  were 
manly  and  generous  enough  to  sympathize  with  my 
ballotless  condition,  but  it  was  the  source  of  many  jokes 
at  my  expense  among  them.  On  a certain  election  day 
in  November,  they  mounted  their  horses  and  started  for 
the  polls.  I stood  watching  them  as  they  rode  off  in  the 
splendor  of  their  youth  and  strength.  I was  full  of 
love  and  pride  for  them,  but  was  feeling  keenly  the  dis- 
grace of  being  a disfranchised  mortal,  simply  on  ac- 
count of  having  been  born  a woman, — and  that  by  no 
volition  of  my  own.  Surmising  the  storm  that  was 
raging  in  my  heart,  my  second  brother — who  was  at 
home  from  the  West  on  a visit  of  over  a year’s  duration 
— looking  at  me,  smiling  and  lifting  his  hat  in  mock 
courtesy  said : “ Good  morning,  sister.  You  taught 
us  and  trained  us  in  the  way  we  should  go.  You  gave 
us  money  from  your  hard  earnings,  and  helped  us  to  get 
a start  in  the  world.  You  are  interested  infinitely  more 


Evolution  of  Southern  Women  1 1 1 


in  good  government  and  understand  politics  a thousand 
times  better  than  we,  but  it  is  election  day  and  we  leave 
you  at  home  with  the  idiots  and  Indians,  incapables, 
paupers,  lunatics,  criminals  and  the  other  women  that 
the  authorities  in  this  nation  do  not  deem  it  proper  to 
trust  with  the  ballot;  while  we,  lordly  men,  march  to 
the  polls  and  express  our  opinions  in  a way  that 
counts.” 

There  was  the  echo  of  a general  laugh  as  they  rode 
away.  A salute  was  waved  to  them  and  a good-by 
smiled  in  return;  but  my  lips  were  trembling  and  my 
eyes  were  dim  with  tears.  For  the  first  time  the  fact 
was  apparent  that  a wide  gulf  stretched  between  my 
brothers  and  me ; that  there  was  a plane,  called  political 
equality,  upon  which  we  could  not  stand  together.  We 
had  the  same  home,  the  same  parents,  the  same  facul- 
ties, the  same  general  outlook.  We  had  loved  the  same 
things  and  striven  for  the  same  ends  and  had  been 
equals  in  all  respects.  Now  I was  set  aside  as  inferior, 
inadequate  for  citizenship,  not  because  of  inferior  qual- 
ity or  achievement  but  by  an  arbitrary  discrimination 
that  seemed  as  unjust  as  it  was  unwise.  I too  had  to 
live  under  the  laws ; then  why  was  it  not  equally  my 
interest  and  privilege,  to  elect  the  officers  who  were  to 
make  and  execute  them?  I was  a human  being  and  a 
citizen,  and  a self-supporting,  producing  citizen,  yet  my 
government  took  no  cognizance  of  me  except  to  set  me 
aside  with  the  unworthy  and  the  incapable  for  whom 
the  state  was  forced  to  provide. 

That  experience  made  me  a woman  suffragist, 
avowed  and  uncompromising.  Deep  down  in  mv  heart 


I 12 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


a vow  was  made  that  day  that  never  should  satisfaction 
come  to  me  until  by  personal  effort  I had  helped  to  put 
the  ballot  into  the  hands  of  woman.  It  became  a mas- 
tering purpose  of  my  life. 

The  women  of  the  South  have  not  sought  work  be- 
cause they  loved  it ; they  have  not  gone  before  the  public 
because  it  was  desirable  for  themselves;  they  have  not 
arrived  at  the  wish  for  political  equality  with  men 
simply  by  a process  of  reasoning;  all  this  has  been 
thrust  upon  them  by  a changed  social  and  economic  en- 
vironment. It  is  the  result  of  the  evolution  of  events 
which  was  set  in  motion  by  the  bombardment  of  Fort 
Sumter. 

At  the  close  of  the  war  when  the  entire  South  was 
lying  prostrate  and  bleeding ; her  fertile  fields  left  bare 
and  desolate,  her  lovely  homes  ravaged  by  fire  and 
sword;  her  young  men  slaughtered  or  disabled;  her 
commercial  streams  choked  and  stagnated;  her  system 
of  labor  utterly  and  forever  destroyed ; her  social  affilia- 
tions blasted  and  every  feature  of  life  dazed  and  revolu- 
tionized, the  women  of  that  unhappy  time  arose  in  the 
majesty  of  their  hitherto  undreamed-of  strength  and 
with  forceful  calmness  and  unmurmuring  determina- 
tion, put  their  hands  figuratively  and  literally  to  the 
plow  and  have  never  faltered  nor  looked  back.  Their 
heroism  has  not  been  known  as  it  deserves.  When, 
after  the  war,  the  men  were  dying  all  about  them  from 
the  hardships  that  they  had  endured  in  the  field  of  bat- 
tle, the  mother-heart  of  the  South  said,  “ Somebody 
must  live  for  the  sake  of  our  children  ” — and  the  women 
lived  and  worked.  Those  of  the  better  classes  had  been 


Evolution  of  Southern  Women  113 

accustomed  to  the  control  and  management  of  servants 
and  households,  often  of  large  planting  interests.  They 
were  full  of  resources,  and  their  naturally  flexible  tem- 
perament made  readjustment  easier  to  them  than  to 
men.  For  a decade  or  more,  the  boys  usually  went  to 
work  at  the  time  they  should  have  entered  college,  partly 
from  necessity,  partly  because  many  of  them  had  served 
in  the  Confederate  army  and  preferred  work  to  the  con- 
finement of  a student’s  life.  The  daughters  were  sent 
to  college ; every  sacrifice  was  made  for  this  end,  until, 
after  fifteen  years,  the  superiority  of  culture  of  the 
young  woman  over  the  average  young  man  was  very 
noticeable.  Improving  circumstances  gradually  cor- 
rected this  inequality:  but  the  tide  had  set  toward  the 
advancement  of  women  in  the  educational  and  industrial 
field. 

Now,  over  the  South,  boarding  schools  and  academies 
with  their  meagre  curriculum  have  been  supplanted  by 
industrial  institutes  and  colleges  where  young  women 
are  drilled  in  common-sense  pursuits  that  will  fit  them 
to  be  bread-winners ; sending  them  out  into  the  world 
with  skilled  hands  and  trained  minds.  Medical  colleges 
once  devoted  wholly  to  men  are  now  equally  open  to 
women.  Among  these  is  the  State  Medical  College  of 
South  Carolina,  at  Charleston,  Tulane  University  of 
New  Orleans,  Louisiana,  and  Johns  Hopkins  at  Balti- 
more, Maryland.  The  following  state  institutions  are 
co-educational : University  of  Alabama,  Arkansas  In- 
dustrial University,  University  of  Mississippi,  Uni- 
versity of  Missouri,  University  of  North  Carolina,  Uni- 
versity of  Tennessee,  University  of  Texas,  West  Vir- 


1 14  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

ginia  University,  South  Carolina  College,  Alabama  Ag- 
ricultural and  Mechanical  College,  Mississippi  Agri- 
cultural and  Mechanical  College;  also  for  the  negro 
race  Delaware  State  College  for  Colored  Students,  Al- 
corn Agricultural  and  Mechanical  College  (Missis- 
sippi), and  Agricultural  and  Mechanical  College 
(North  Carolina).  Very  much  after  the  order  of  Har- 
vard and  Columbia,  the  doors  of  the  University  of  Ala- 
bama have  been  opened  to  young  women.  The  annex 
is  named  for  Miss  Julia  Tutwiler,  the  noted  Alabama 
educator,  who  has  done  more  to  secure  the  opportunities 
now  granted  the  girls  than  any  other  woman  in  her 
state. 

Four  Southern  states  have  industrial  schools  for 
white  girls : — Alabama,  Georgia,  Mississippi  and  South 
Carolina.  Mississippi  w.as  the  first  State  in  the  Union 
to  have  a State  Industrial  College ; also  the  first  to  have 
an  Industrial  College  for  Girls.  There  were  industrial 
schools,  but  not  as  planned  in  Mississippi  by  the  State 
for  the  girls. 

Nearly  all  public  normal  schools  in  the  South  are  co- 
educational. The  custom  is  gaining  in  favor  and  there 
is  a pronounced  sentiment  for  allowing  women  to  hold 
administrative  situations  in  the  educational  system.  In 
the  field  of  instruction  Southern  women  occupy  an  hon- 
ored position.  There  are  thousands  of  women  teachers 
in  the  common  schools  of  the  South  to-day,  besides 
hundreds  of  college  professors,  principals  of  high 
schools,  presidents  of  normals,  county  superintendents 
of  education,  school  commissioners,  members  of  school 
boards  and  committees  on  examination. 


Evolution  of  Southern  Women  115 

Two  prominent  women  asked  the  State  Superintend- 
ent of  Education  of  Louisiana  not  long  since  what  pro- 
portion of  women  were  employed  in  the  public  schools 
of  that  state.  He  replied  that  there  were  about  nine- 
teen-twentieths.  This  is  a fair  average  of  women 
teachers  in  all  the  Southern  states.  Two-thirds  of  the 
425,000  teachers  now  in  the  United  States  are  women. 

There  were  1,391  more  women  teachers  in  the  city 
of  Baltimore,  in  December,  1896,  than  male  teachers. 
It  is  a significant  fact  that  the  salaries  of  women  teach- 
ers in  nearly  every  Southern  state,  probably  in  all,  are 
smaller  than  those  of  male  teachers, — which  fact  may 
be  stated  as  general  for  most  states  of  the  Union.  Less 
pay  for  the  same  amount  and  character  of  work  is  a 
cause  as  potential  in  arousing  the  unrest  of  women  as 
that  they  are  taxed  to  support  a government  that  denies 
them  representation. 

Hundreds  of  missionaries  go  out  from  among  South- 
ern women  every  few  years  into  home  and  foreign 
mission  fields  and  almost  every  group  of  worshipers, 
however  small,  has  a woman's  missionary  society.  The 
majority  of  churches  welcome  women  to  their  pulpits 
and  Southern  women  evangelists  are  counted  with  the 
most  successful  in  the  United  States  of  either  sex. 
Some  denominations  allow  women  to  represent  them 
in  their  local  councils  and  send  them  as  delegates  to 
-legislate  in  ecclesiastical  assemblies.  In  the  South,  as 
everywhere,  women  constitute  two-thirds  of  the  mem- 
bership of  the  young  people's  church  societies.  Young 
Southern  women  are  beginning  to  ask  for  deaconesses' 
orders  and  although  not  allowed  to  expound  the  Scrip- 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


1 16 

tures  as  ordained  ministers,  yet  some  have  graduated 
from  schools  of  theology  and  many  more  are  being  pre- 
pared unconsciously  to  officiate  as  clergymen  in  the 
splendid  drills  they  are  receiving  in  gospel  training 
schools,  and  the  active  work  of  the  Young  Woman's 
Christian  Association.  Women  are  superintendents  of 
Sunday-schools,  collecting  stewards  and  elders,  and  are 
filling  almost  every  office  known  to  the  church  except 
that  of  pastor. 

From  early  Colonial  times  women  have  conducted 
newspapers  in  the  South,  written  articles  on  strong- 
minded  subjects  and  produced  many  works  of  fiction; 
but  it  was  left  to  the  women  of  these  later  days  to  blos- 
som into  full-fledged  journalists,  editors,  reporters  and 
managers  of  great  dailies,  proprietors  of  magazines  and 
authors  of  books,  forming  a growing  and  brilliant  host. 

A young  lady  of  New  Orleans  told  me  that  she  was 
not  allowed,  several  years  ago,  to  go  shopping  on  the 
most  elegant  business  street  of  that  city  without  a chap- 
erone ; afterward  she  became  a reporter  for  one  of  the 
most  influential  papers,  going  out  alone  at  all  hours  of 
the  day  and  night.  This  has  been  the  experience  of 
many  Southern  girls.  Numbers  of  women  belong  to 
press  associations  in  the  South,  and  some  are  presidents 
of  these  important  bodies.  Clubs,  literary,  industrial, 
scientific  and  political,  abound  from  one  end  of  the 
South  to  the  other.  Railroads  are  employing  Southern 
women  as  bookkeepers  and  telegraph  operators,  and 
they  are  acceptably  filling  the  responsible  position  of 
freight  and  passenger  agent.  They  are  seen  behind 
counters  as  clerks,  in  drug  stores  as  pharmacists,  in  of- 


Evolution  of  Southern  Women  117 

fices  by  the  score  as  typewriters  and  stenographers.  We 
find  them  successful  merchants,  hotel  keepers,  farmers 
and  cattle  ranchers,  state  librarians,  cashiers  of  banks, 
postmasters,  artists,  sculptors,  architects  and  musicians, 
presidents  of  banks,  police  matrons,  trained  nurses,  su- 
perintendents of  hospitals,  instructors  of  gymnasiums, 
steamboat  captains,  and  officials  in  the  employ  of  our 
national  government,  supporting  not  only  themselves 
but  often  large  families.  Southern  women  are  rapidly 
entering  the  professions  of  law  and  medicine ; many  are 
promising  amateur  practitioners,  while  others  have  al- 
ready reached  the  zenith  of  the  expert. 

When  a man  married  a wealthy  woman  of  the  South, 
a few  decades  ago,  all  of  her  property  passed  into  the 
hands  of  her  husband.  Mississippi  claims  the  honor  of 
being  the  first  state  in  the  Union  to  bestow  the  right 
upon  married  women  of  full  control  of  their  property. 
Since  it  took  the  initiative,  in  1880,  the  measure  has 
become  popular,  not  only  in  the  South,  but  in  many 
other  states. 

When  the  bill  giving  women  the  control  of  their 
property  was  before  the  Mississippi  legislature,  its  op- 
ponents argued  against  it  on  the  ground  that  if  passed 
and  allowed  to  go  into  execution,  it  would  disrupt  fam- 
ilies. This  idea  of  the  disruption  of  families  has  been 
a terror  that  has  hounded  the  steps  of  the  reformer  for 
generations,  but  the  home  tie  seems  to  remain  unruffled, 
through  all  the  revolutions. 

Southern  women  have  developed  marvelously  as 
lecturers  and  organizers  in  philanthropic  movements. 
Nearly  every  state  in  the  South  can  boast  of  women 


1 1 8 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


orators  who  have  addressed  hundreds  of  enthusiastic 
audiences  and  unflinchingly  pushed  their  way  through 
overwhelming  difficulties  to  positions  of  influence  and 
power. 

Modern  reformations  have  gained  a foothold  in  the 
hearts  and  lives  of  Southern  women  that  is  astonishing 
to  all  who  realize  the  intense  conservatism  that  fettered 
them  in  other  days. 

The  Woman’s  Christian  Temperance  Union  was  the 
golden  key  that  unlocked  the  prison  doors  of  pent-up 
possibilities.  It  was  the  generous  liberator,  the  joyous 
iconoclast,  the  discoverer,  the  developer  of  Southern 
women.  It,  above  all  other  forces,  made  it  possible  for 
women  to  occupy  the  advanced  and  continually  advanc- 
ing position  they  now  hold;  a position  that  is  leading 
steadily  to  the  highest  pinnacle  that  can  be  reached  in 
civil  government,  namely,  the  political  emancipation  of 
women.  The  hungry  avidity  with  which  the  brainy, 
philosophical  women  of  the  South  are  taking  hold  of 
this  great  subject  is  something  at  which  we  cannot  won- 
der. It  is  the  natural  outcome  of  their  desperate 
struggles  for  individual  freedom.  This  sentiment  for 
woman  suffrage  is  not  confined  to  one  sex,  by  any 
means.  I have  always  maintained,  and  do  now  insist, 
that  Southern  men,  as  a rule,  are  stronger  advocates 
for  the  enfranchisement  of  women  than  men  in  any 
other  section  of  the  United  States  except  in  certain  por- 
tions of  the  West.  The  old-time  element  of  chivalry, 
which  constituted  so  largely  the  make-up  of  the  South- 
ern gentleman,  has  been  handed  down  through  the  gen- 
erations and  now  begins  to  crystalize  in  the  direction 


Evolution  of  Southern  Women  i 19 

of  equality  before  the  law  for  men  and  women.  South- 
ern people  are  hospitable  to  reforms,  whether  they  come 
in  the  guise  of  religion,  philanthropy  or  politics,  if 
justice  and  righteousness  lie  at  the  foundation.  The 
movement  for  woman  suffrage  has  advanced  slowly  in 
the  South,  because  very  slight  effort  has  been  made 
there  to  secure  the  ballot  for  women,  and  the  thought 
is  somewhat  a new  one  to  the  masses.  For  years,  in 
different  Southern  states  I have  heard  prominent  men 
say:  “ If  women  want  to  vote,  it  is  all  right.  We  have 
no  objection.  As  human  beings,  they  are  entitled  to  the 
same  privileges  as  we  are,  and  require  the  same  legal 
protection.  We  do  not  give  them  the  ballot  because 
they  do  not  seem  to  desire  it.  Just  as  soon  as  they  de- 
mand it,  they  will  get  it.” 

When  the  constitutional  convention  was  held  in  Mis- 
sissippi, a few  years  since,  suffrage  came  very  near  be- 
ing granted  to  the  women  of  that  state;  and  in  South 
Carolina,  soon  after,  the  bill  introduced  in  the  legis- 
lature for  woman's  enfranchisement  was  lost  by  a 
remarkably  small  vote  in  the  senate.  In  1898,  the  state 
of  Louisiana,  by  constitutional  enactment,  gave  to  all 
tax-paying  women  the  right  to  vote  upon  all  questions 
submitted  to  the  tax-payers. 

There  are  several  states  in  the  South  that  give  women 
the  right  of  suffrage  to  a limited  degree,  and  whenever 
they  have  exercised  that  privilege  they  have  been 
treated  with  the  utmost  deference  by  the  male  citizens 
who  met  them  on  an  equal  footing  at  the  polls.  Ken- 
tucky enjoys  the  distinction  of  being  the  first  state  in 
the  nation  to  grant  suffrage  in  any  form  to  women. 


I 20 


A Slaveholder's  Daughter 


This  was  done  as  early  as  1838.  Of  course,  there  are 
thousands  of  men  in  the  South,  as  elsewhere,  who  are 
heavily  coated  with  an  impenetrable  crust  of  prejudice 
concerning  the  hoary  creed  of  “ woman’s  sphere,”  who 
would  oppose  bitterly  any  effort  made  for  her  enfran- 
chisement, just  as  they  would  fight  any  other  progres- 
sive measure.  To  this  class  belong  the  liquor  dealers, 
the  wily  politicians  of  the  lower  stamp,  the  ultra-con- 
servative ecclesiastics,  the  superfine  “ swells  ” and  men 
who  have  risen  from  the  humbler  walks  of  life  deprived 
of  early  advantages  of  education  and  the  refinements 
of  elevated  home  environments. 

Exactly  as  there  are  opponents*  among  men,  so  are 
there  thousands  of  women  in  the  South  who  have  ar- 
rayed themselves  in  a belligerent  attitude  toward  the 
movement  that  was  instituted  especially  for  their  well- 
being. There  are  multitudes  of  others  who  are  still  in  a 
deep  sleep  regarding  the  necessity  of  having  the  ballot, 
and  are  continuing  to  drone  the  old  song  in  their  slum- 
bers : “ I have  all  the  rights  I want ; ” but  there  are 
many  of  their  sisters  who  are  beginning  to  rub  their 
eyes  and  look  up  with  a glad  surprise  upon  the  new  day 
that  is  breaking,  while  scores  of  others  have  shattered 
every  shackle  that  bound  them  to  the  old  conditions  and 
have  walked  out  boldly  into  the  flood-tide  of  the  most 
benignant  evolution  that  the  centuries  have  brought 
to  them,  and  are  working  with  heart  and  brain  on  fire 
to  materialize  into  legislation  the  most  potential  gift  that 
civilization  can  bestow. 

There  are  woman  suffrage  societies  in  every  state  in 
the  South,  and  equal  rights  conventions  are  constantly 


Evolution  of  Southern  Women  121 


being  held.  There  are  women  everlastingly  busy  in 
sending  out  suffrage  literature,  lecturing  and  organiz- 
ing political  equality  clubs,  in  supplying  articles  for  the 
press,  in  appearing  before  legislatures  and  committees 
and  interviewing  representatives,  in  canvassing  towns 
and  counties,  and  in  every  other  way  laboring  to  pro- 
mulgate the  divine  doctrine  of  equality,  realizing  that 
'when  men  and  women  “ shall  know  the  truth,  . . the 
truth  shall  make  ” them  “ free.” 

A striking  illustration  of  what  sort  of  energy  and 
persistence  is  in  the  Southern  character  is  shown  in  the 
efforts  of  a young  woman  who  was  born  in  South  Car- 
olina, and  brought  by  her  parents  at  the  age  of  seven 
to  Mississippi,  where  she  was  reared  on  a farm  near 
Meridian.  From  her  earliest  years,  she  was  possessed 
of  a great  love  for  natural  science,  and  was  filled  with 
an  ambition  for  a liberal  education : but  she  was  poor, 
and  the  future  looked  shadowy  and  forbidding.  It  was 
not  so  dark,  however,  as  not  to  be  overcome  by  a relent- 
less energy.  At  one  time  her  brother  playfully  gave 
her  the  large  sum  of  five  cents.  With  this  a yard  of 
calico  was  bought,  out  of  which  she  manufactured  a 
sunbonnet  and  sold  it  for  twenty-five  cents.  That 
amount  was  invested  in  more  calico,  and  a dress  was 
made  and  sold ; then  reinvestments  followed  till  $12  was 
realized.  She  persuaded  her  father  to  let  her  have  an 
acre  of  ground  to  cultivate  for  a year ; her  request  was 
granted,  and  from  her  own  labor  and  the  help  of  the 
$12  a crop  of  sweet  potatoes  was  raised  which  netted 
$40.  This  amount  just  covered  the  required  deposit 
necessary  to  enter  the  Industrial  Institute  and  College, 


I 22 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


at  Columbus,  Mississippi.  Here  she  paid  her  board 
for  four  years  by  doing  dining-room  work.  In  1891  she 
was  graduated  with  the  degree  of  B.  A. 

The  next  year  was  passed  in  Meridian  studying  medi- 
cine under  one  of  the  leading  physicians.  In  the  fall  of 
'92  she  entered  the  Woman's  Medical  College  of  Penn- 
sylvania, paying  her  way  through  that  institution  by 
giving  private  lessons  in  physiology  and  chemistry  to 
the  students,  for  which  she  received  $2  an  hour,  and, 
at  odd  times,  working  as  a waitress  in  a restaurant. 
During  the  summers  she  stayed  in  Philadelphia  nurs- 
ing, thus  making  her  expenses  and  gaining  much 
practical  knowledge.  In  1895  she  was  graduated  from 
the  Woman's  Medical  College,  and  returned  at  once  to 
Meridian.  Very  soon  she  was  requested  by  two  mission 
boards  to  go  to  China  and  take  charge  of  hospital  work 
there,  but  she  said  she  felt  called  to  practice  medicine 
in  the  South,  in  her  own  state  and  among  her  own  peo- 
ple. Six  months  after  her  graduation  as  a physician, 
she  took  the  state  medical  examination  and  was  granted 
a license  to  practice — the  first  woman  in  Mississippi 
who  has  gained  such  a distinction.  Her  reception  by 
the  physicians  of  her  state  has  been  cordial  and  courte- 
ous. Dr.  Rosa  Wiss  is  now  an  honored  and  independent 
physician  with  a success  assured  by  the  precedent 
narrated. 

The  mighty  principles  that  are  now  being  wrought 
out  in  the  splendid  lives  of  the  women  of  this  nation 
received  their  impetus  several  years  before  the  Civil 
war.  Jessie  Cassidy  in  her  compact  little  book  called 
“ The  Legal  Status  of  Women,"  published  in  1897  for 


Evolution  of  Southern  Women  123 

the  National  American  Woman  Suffrage  Association, 
in  the  Political  Science  series,  gives  a concise  but  com- 
prehensive history  of  the  woman's  movement  in  these 
words : “ The  first  organized  demand  by  women  for 
political  recognition  was  made  in  the  United  States  in 
1848,  at  the  memorable  Seneca  Falls  Convention.  That 
suffrage  should  be  included  had  not  beforehand  entered 
the  minds  of  those  who  issued  the  call  for  the  conven- 
tion, but  it  was  suggested  during  the  preparation  of  the 
Declaration  of  Independence  and  incorporated  in  the  list 
of  grievances  submitted  by  the  committee.  It  came  like 
a bombshell  upon  the  unprepared  convention,  and  after 
a long  discussion  was  passed  by  only  a bare  majority. 
Lucretia  Mott  was  one  of  those  who  at  that  time  could 
not  see  her  way  to  support  it.  The  organization  of  dif- 
ferent State  Suffrage  Associations  followed,  continuing 
the  agitation.  In  1869  Wyoming  granted  full  political 
equality  to  women. 

“ Different  degrees  of  school  suffrage  are  now 
granted  in  twenty-two  states  and  territories,  partial  suf- 
frage for  public  improvements  in  three,  municipal  suf- 
frage in  one,  and  in  Wyoming,  Colorado,  Utah  and 
Idaho  women  vote  for  all  officers,  local,  state  and 
national,  exactly  as  do  men.” 

The  following  is  a list  of  states  and  territories  that 
have  given  the  franchise  in  some  form  to  women : Ari- 
zona and  Oklahoma  territories;  Colorado,  Connecticut, 
Delaware,  Idaho,  Illinois,  Iowa,  Kansas,  Kentucky, 
Louisiana,  Massachusetts,  Michigan,  Minnesota,  Mis- 
sissippi, Montana,  Nebraska,  New  Hampshire,  New 
Jersey,  New  York,  North  Dakota,  Ohio,  Oregon,  South 


124 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


Dakota,  Utah,  Vermont,  Washington,  Wisconsin, 
Wyoming. 

In  1869,  John  Stuart  Mill  introduced  the  question  of 
woman  suffrage  in  Parliament.  This  was  the  first 
movement  that  was  made  for  it  in  England.  Since  then 
women  have  been  granted  local  franchise  to  a great  ex- 
tent and  now  a strong  demand  is  being  made  for  Parlia- 
mentary Suffrage.  The  cause  of  equal  rights  is  gain- 
ing constantly  in  many  provinces  and  countries  on  the 
continent.  In  a number  of  them  local  and  school  fran- 
chise has  been  given  to  women.  Full  suffrage  is  enjoyed 
in  the  Isle  of  Man,  New  Zealand,  and  South  and  West 
Australia.  The  following  is  a register  of  foreign  coun- 
tries that  have  given  the  ballot  to  women  in  some  form : 
Australasia — Victoria,  Queensland,  Tasmania,  New 
South  Wales,  New  Zealand,  South  and  West  Australia; 
Canada — Ontario,  Nova  Scotia,  Manitoba,  New  Bruns- 
wick, British  Columbia ; Cape  of  Good  Hope,  England, 
Guernsey,  Ireland,  Isle  of  Man,  Scotland,  Wales,  Fin- 
land, Iceland,  Norway,  Sweden,  Prussia,  Russia,  Aus- 
tria, Brunswick,  Croatia,  Saxony,  Schleswig-Holstein, 
W estphalia,  Austria — Bohemia,  Galicia,  Lodomeria, 
Cracow,  Moravia;  Belgium,  Italy,  Luxembourg,  Rou- 
mania. 


CHAPTER  XII 


THE  TRANSFORMATION 

Why  thus  longing,  thus  forever  sighing 
For  the  far-off,  unattainable  and  dim, — 

While  the  beautiful,  all  around  thee  lying 
Offers  up  its  low,  perpetual  hymn? 

— Harriet  Winslow. 

My  last  private  school  in  Flora  was  continued  only 
a few  months.  At  the  beginning  of  the  New  Year, 
1887,  my  pupils  were  turned  over  to  the  public  school 
and  I sought  a much  needed  rest  in  a visit  to  some  rela- 
tives in  St.  Louis,  Missouri,  where  six  weeks  were 
spent.  There  was  the  usual  round  of  society  gaieties 
but  the  extent  of  my  participation  was  entertaining 
numerous  visitors,  attending  receptions  and  the  theatre. 

This  breath  from  the  old  life  found  me  as  miserable 
as  five  years  before,  full  of  the  same  restless  and  un- 
happy questioning,  and  more  disgusted  than  ever  with 
the  emptiness  of  an  existence  without  a definite  aim. 
I was  yearning  continually  for  an  intangible  Something, 
but  believing  in  nothing. 

On  my  return  from  St.  Louis  a lengthy  visit  was 
made  to  Canton.  My  mathematical  studies  under  Mrs. 
Drane  were  resumed  and  examination  taken,  for  the 
second  time,  under  the  new  school  law,  in  both  of  which 
first-grade  certificates  were  obtained.  My  plans  were 


126  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

unsettled  but  wisdom  pointed  to  a state  of  readiness  for 
any  emergency.  Soon  after  going  home  a letter  was 
received  from  Mrs.  Drane  inviting  me  to  join  her  in 
the  flourishing  school  she  had  established  at  Canton: 
“ Not  as  my  assistant/’  she  wrote,  “ but  as  my  partner; 
sharing  equally  my  labor  and  my  income.”  A short 
time  previous  father’s  health  had  begun  to  fail.  This 
made  it  imperative  for  me  to  remain  near  him,  so  the 
tempting  offer  had  to  be  declined. 

In  the  fall,  my  fifth  public  school  year  was  begun  near 
home  in  a new  school-house  that  had  replaced  the  old 
hut — the  scene  of  my  former  struggles.  It  was.  not 
necessary  for  me  to  go  from  house  to  house  begging 
for  pupils  as  in  earlier  days,  but  the  same  visitations 
were  made  because  a great  yearning  over  humanity  had 
crept  into  my  heart,  and  the  desire  of  my  life  was  to  do 
something  for  its  solace  and  its  uplift.  My  eyes  had 
slowly  opened  to  many  truths ; among  the  chief  was  a 
recognition  of  my  intensely  selfish,  inordinately  proud 
and  uselessly  embittered  spirit.  I saw  that  there  was 
poverty  in  the  world  infinitely  more  stringent  and  pain- 
ful than  mine;  that  there  was  suffering  cruel  and  ex- 
quisite, to  which  my  sorrows  were  as  drops  of  rain  to 
the  fathomless  ocean;  that  there  was  hunger  for  light 
and  sympathy,  the  intensity  and  need  of  which  I was 
but  beginning  to  comprehend ; that  there  was  ignorance 
pitiful  and  paralyzing  in  the  very  air  about  me;  that 
there  was  degradation  within  reach  of  my  finger-tips 
terrible  and  communicable. 

With  the  dawning  of  these  realities  there  came  the 
conviction  that  one  and  all  ought  to  be  remedied,  and 


The  Transformation 


127 


that  I should  be  an  instrument  in  a new  dispensation. 
Accompanying  this  consciousness  was  the  knowledge 
that  my  own  shortcomings  would  have  to  be  conquered 
before  it  would  be  possible  for  me  to  help  others.  Then 
began  a closer  self-analysis;  my  most  prominent  fail- 
ings were  singly  the  subjects  of  excision.  I forced  my- 
self to  think  of  others'  wishes  as  superior  to  my  own ; 
my  pride  was  humbled  by  every  crucifying  device 
that  suggested  itself.  An  effort  was  made  to  tear  out  all 
roots  of  bitterness  and  to  cultivate  every  tender  senti- 
ment. Clothes  were  bought  for  the  needy  and  journeys 
were  made  around  the  country  for  the  purpose  of  solicit- 
ing food  for  the  destitute.  The  sick  were  visited  and 
the  lives  of  those  who  sat  in  the  shadow  brightened. 
Books  and  periodicals  were  sent  to  persons  who  could 
not  afford  such  luxuries  and  an  earnest  endeavor  was 
instituted  to  soften  their  hard  lots  by  sympathy  with 
their  leaden  atmosphere  and  sunless  prospects.  Sins 
that  were  intolerably  repugnant  were  overlooked  and 
outcasts,  in  the  darkness  of  shame,  were  sought  out. 

The  wider  the  windows  of  my  soul  were  opened  the 
more  distinctly  was  my  true  self  revealed — odious  in 
conceit,  selfishness  and  prejudice.  The  greater  my  hu- 
miliation the  stronger  was  my  yearning  for  an  infinite, 
inexplicable,  divinely  satisfying  Something,  At  this 
stage  of  my  spiritual  awakening  Robert  Elsmere  was 
read,  Mrs.  Humphrey  Ward's  famous  book,  which  is 
said  to  have  destroyed  the  faith  of  many.  I was 
profoundly  impressed  with  the  difference  in  the  life  of 
Elsmere,  before  and  after  his  renunciation  of  Chris- 
tianity; so  radiant  and  useful  when  in  the  fullness  of 


128  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

belief,  so  gloomy  and  forceless  when  the  light  died 
out. 

My  brain  began  to  wonder  if  such  could  have  been 
the  real  experience  of  a human  soul ; if  so,  there  surely 
must  be  a marvelous  power  in  the  possession  of  faith 
in  Jesus  Christ.  Then  came  the  remembrance  of  all  the 
striking  characters  whose  acquaintance  had  been  made 
through  books  or  personal  contact,  and  they  were  care- 
fully weighed  in  the  scales  of  spiritual  beliefs.  It  was 
found  that  the  happiest  and  most  useful  professed  a 
changeless  faith  in  God,  and  the  most  objectless  and 
miserable  rejected  Him.  A desire  grew  to  know  that 
wonderful  essence  called  religion  which  could  effect 
such  transformations  and  sustain  such  power  in  the 
human  heart.  “ What  is  God  ? ” was  asked  again,  not 
impatiently  this  time,  not  imperatively,  but  with  an  un- 
dying hunger  that  all  the  years  had  not  quieted.  “ O, 
my  soul,  what  is  God  ? ” 

In  the  solitude  of  my  room  the  Bible  was  opened.  It 
had  been  closed  ever  since  the  hour  the  knowledge  came 
that  my  school-days  were  over, — soon  after  my  fifteenth 
birthday.  I began  at  “ In  the  beginning  ” and  read  on 
through  the  Old  Testament,  finding  nothing  satisfying, 
but  numerous  inconsistencies,  unaccountable  incidents 
and  mystifying  statements.  I laid  the  book  down  with 
deep  disappointment.  A feeling  swept  over  me  of  utter 
repugnance.  Acceptance  of  the  story  of  creation  was 
impossible;  the  history  of  Adam  and  Eve  was  consid- 
ered an  allegory.  It  appeared  unbelievable  that  a man 
as  cold-blooded  as  Abraham  in  driving  ITagar  from 
his  home  should  be  the  “ friend  of  God Jacob,  to  my 


The  Transformation 


1 29 


mind,  was  a shameless  deceiver  and  a thief,  and  could 
never  have  been  chosen  as  the  father  of  his  people 
by  God.  Moses  was  a murderer  and  could  not  have 
been  divinely  selected  to  lead  the  Hebrews  out  of  Egypt 
and  to  “ talk  face  to  face  ” with  God.  There  was  no 
poetry  in  the  Psalms  because  David  wrote  them,  and 
the  sins  he  had  committed  were  so  hideous  as  to  shut 
him  out  forever  from  any  suggestion  of  greatness  or 
connection  with  the  mercy  of  God.  So  it  was  on  down 
to  the  last  verse  in  the  last  chapter  of  Malachi. 

A second  darkness  fell  upon  me.  Heart-sick,  my 
daily  duties  were  faithfully  done,  but  my  difficulties  and 
sufferings  were  not  mentioned  to  a living  being.  The 
crisis  was  too  sacred  for  the  human  touch.  There  are 
vast  stretches  of  soul-land  in  the  possession  of  every 
unconverted  life  where  none  but  God  have  a right  to 
tread.  Silent  and  alone  the  fierce  battle  was  fought  to 
bring  my  mind  into  an  attitude  of  acceptance  of  “ the 
plan  of  salvation/'  There  were  no  promptings  of  fear 
in  my  struggles  for  a thought  of  hell  did  not  appeal  to 
me.  The  pitiless  restlessness  swayed  constantly  in  my 
soul.  My  intellect  rebelled,  my  heart  was  as  stone.  The 
truth  was  no  nearer  my  grasp  than  at  first  and  my  con- 
dition was  as  wretched  and  comfortless  as  when,  with- 
out rudder  or  compass,  my  faith  drifted  out  from  me 
on  the  ocean  of  night,  ten  years  before.  Work  in  school 
and  everywhere  else  was  undertaken  with  more  ve- 
hemence than  ever,  but  my  despair  only  deepened  as 
the  craving  grew  for  a great  Completeness.  After 
many  dreary  weeks,  the  Bible  was  again  opened  and  the 
reading  continued  where  I had  left  off, — the  first  chap- 


130  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

ter  of  Matthew, — “ The  Book  of  the  generation  of  Jesus 
Christ.”  What  a strange,  sweet  thrill  went  through 
me!  what  did  it  mean?  “ Of  Jesus  Christ.”  Rapidly 
the  pages  were  turned  with  eyes  and  heart  aflame. 
“ The  old,  old  story  ” of  the  only  perfect  Man ; lowly, 
yet  kingly;  gentle,  but  strong;  tender  and  faithful — 
“ the  same  yesterday,  and  to-day,  and  forever ; ” fear- 
less in  the  denunciation  of  wrong,  undismayed  in  the 
defence  of  righteousness,  unconquerable  in  integrity, 
sublime  in  innocency,  infinite  in  power  and  holiness; 
the  perfection  of  humanity ; the  fulness  of  divinity ! 

As  the  reading  went  on  God  was  revealed  to  me — 
translated  in  the  life  of  Jesus  Christ.  What  difference 
did  it  make  now  about  Adam  and  Eve,  Abraham,  Jacob, 
Moses  and  David!  I had  found  Jesus  Christ.  In  the 
glory  of  that  possession  all  unbelief  vanished.  With  a 
triumphant,  “ My  Lord  and  my  God ! ” my  soul  passed 
into  the  liberty  wherein  He  maketh  free.  O,  wonderful 
revelation!  O,  divine  consolation!  O,  perfect  filling! 
My  heart  was  “ satisfied  ” for  the  awakening  “ in  His 
likeness  ” had  come.  The  hunger  was  gone.  The  un- 
rest was  stilled.  The  questioning  answered.  Peace, 
joyous  and  ineffable,  that  the  world  can  neither  give 
nor  take  away,  swept  through  my  being. 

“ And  I smiled  to  think  God’s  sweetness 
Flowed  around  ” my  “ incompleteness 
Round  ” my  “ restlessness  His  rest.” 


CHAPTER  XIII 


MISS  FRANCES  E.  WILLARD 

What  power  there  is  in  an  enthusiastic  adherence  to  an  ideal ! 
What  are  hardships,  contumely,  slander,  ridicule,  persecution, 
toil,  sickness,  the  feebleness  of  age,  to  a soul  throbbing  with  an 
overmastering  purpose  ? — Marsden. 

For  many  years  the  conviction  had  more  and  more 
firmly  settled  upon  my  soul  that  a special  mission  in  life 
would  be  my  destiny.  My  highest  ambition  had  been  to 
be  a writer.  At  an  early  age  several  short  stories  were 
written  and,  later,  articles  on  education  and  kindred 
subjects  were  contributed  to  different  newspapers.  A 
talent  for  authorship  did  not  develop  satisfactorily,  so 
nothing  more  pretentious  in  a literary  line  was  at- 
tempted. 

After  my  conversion  the  impression  of  being  born  for 
a specific  work  deepened  into  a certainty.  With  this 
consciousness  came  a definite  act  of  consecration.  All 
that  was  mine — brains,  hands,  feet,  life  itself — was 
given  into  the  keeping  of  Christ  to  be  used  for  His  serv- 
ice. With  this  surrender  there  came  from  the  fulness  of 
a glad  heart  the  cry : “ ‘ Here  am  I.  Lord,  send  me.’ — 
anywhere — to  the  foreign  mission  field — to  the  slums  of 
the  great  cities — to  the  self-renouncing  vocation  of  a 
deaconess  or  to  the  isolated  calling  of  a temperance 
worker — anywhere,  O God ! ” 

*3* 


132 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


My  school  closed  in  April.  A few  days  later  father 
said  to  me : “ It  is  announced  in  the  papers  that  Miss 
Frances  E.  Willard,  President  of  the  National  Woman's 
Christian  Temperance  Union,  is  to  lecture  in  Jackson 
next  week.  I wish,  daughter,  that  you  would  go  to  hear 
her.  She  is  a woman  of  international  reputation  and  is 
considered  the  greatest  orator  and  foremost  reformer  of 
the  day.  You  should  make  it  a point  to  come  into  con- 
tact with  such  a beautiful  character."  “ Oh ! father," 
was  my  reply,  “ the  weariness  is  so  great  after  these 
months  of  teaching  that  not  enough  vitality  is  left  to 
pack  a valise ! " The  next  day  a letter  was  received 
from  Bessie  Fearn,  in  which  she  wrote,  “ Miss  Willard, 
the  famous  temperance  lecturer,  will  soon  be  in  Jack- 
son  to  deliver  an  address.  Do  come  down  to  hear  her 
and  remain  to  visit  me."  “ What  a strange  coinci- 
dence ! " was  my  comment,  but  still  I did  not  think  of 
going.  The  third  day  after,  a letter  arrived  from  a rel- 
ative in  New  Orleans,  saying,  “ I shall  be  in  Jackson 
next  week  and  am  anxious  to  meet  you  there.  Please 
do  not  fail  to  come."  “ This  is  a very  unusual  con- 
junction of  circumstances,"  I remarked  to  father.  “ Per- 
haps, after  all,  it  would  be  better  for  me  to  change  my 
mind  and  go." 

The  words,  “ Woman’s  Christian  Temperance 
Union,"  had  never  fallen  upon  my  ears  until  the  week 
before  Miss  Willard  came  to  Jackson,  in  1889.  Tem- 
perance lectures  had  been  listened  to  from  Francis 
Murphy  and  Luther  Benson,  and  the  Independent  Or- 
der of  Good  Templars  had  been  heard  of,  but  I had 
never  known  of  the  existence  of  a temperance  society 


Miss  Frances  E.  Willard 


1 33 


composed  entirely  of  women.  Father  and  mother  had 
reared  me  with  the  strictest  ideas  concerning  total  ab- 
stinence; they  held  most  decided  views  on  the  subject. 
Mother  had  banished  wine  from  her  table  before  my 
birth,  and  had  not  allowed  even  an  egg-nog  at  Christ- 
mas. The  decanters  and  wine  glasses  were  put  high  up 
and  far  away  in  the  cavernous  depths  of  the  china-closet 
and  the  spiders  had  long  used  them  to  assist  their  con- 
structive enterprises.  The  children  had  been  taught 
that  intemperance  was  more  than  a beastly  vice  and 
drinking,  in  any  degree,  a disgrace.  When  a little  girl, 
attending  a picnic,  some  gentleman  offered  me  a glass 
of  wine  and  a bottle  from  which  to  refill.  This  incensed 
me  so  thoroughly  that  glass  and  bottle  were  tossed  into 
the  muddy  creek  on  whose  banks  we  stood  and  I walked 
contemptuously  away. 

Uncle  Kinch  was  more  convivial  in  his  tastes  than 
father,  and  at  his  home  wines  and  cordials  were  freely 
dispensed.  By  degrees  my  Nazarite  teachings  lost  their 
force,  the  customs  of  the  society  about  me  were  adopted 
and  every  sort  of  refreshment  partaken  of  that  was 
served, — wined  ice-tea  being  a specialty.  It  often  hap- 
pened during  visits  to  intimate  friends  that  claret  was 
“ handed  around  ” at  intervals  to  the  young  people ; at 
other  times,  while  spending  the  day  with  a young  lady 
acquaintance  that  the  mother  sent  in  a bottle  of  wine  to 
be  used  at  will  as  we  played  cards.  I was  accustomed 
in  towns  to  see  champagne  flow  at  dinings,  and  I did  not 
refuse  it.  Once  a wine-party  was  given  “ to  young 
ladies  only  ” at  which  I was  present.  Our  hostess  had 
tasted  the  contents  of  different  bottles  before  our  ar- 


*34 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


rival.  She  soon  become  so  visibly  “ under  the  influ- 
ence ” that  she  had  to  be  taken  to  her  room.  Of  course, 
after  that,  she  was  “ cut  dead  ” by  the  “ set/’  It  is  only 
the  sin  that  “ finds  you  out ” with  which  society  reckons 
seriously.  At  balls  and  parties  I usually  took  cham- 
pagne with  the  rest,  but  always  in  my  heart  there  was 
a sharp  protest. 

When  the  decision  was  reached  that  life  held  some- 
thing better  for  me  than  a giddy  round  of  butterfly  flit- 
tings,  wine  drinking  was  renounced  with  the  other  so- 
called  pleasures  that  go  to  make  up  “ society/’  My 
young  men  friends  began  to  be  talked  to  earnestly  about 
the  dangers  of  drink  and  success  was  completely  at- 
tained in  making  myself  widely  unpopular  with  the 
fashionable  ring.  When  the  serious  business  of  life 
commenced  there  came  a recognition  of  the  dreadful 
havoc  drunkenness  had  made  in  the  homes  about  me, 
and  the  conclusion  was  reached  that  total  abstinence, 
and  nothing  short  of  it,  was  the  only  safe  position  for 
any  man  or  woman  to  occupy.  The  pledge  was  signed 
but  the  temperance  question  did  not  take  hold  of  me 
with  such  absorption  as  to  lead  me  to  read  on  the  sub- 
ject; in  fact  articles  bearing  upon  it  had  always  been 
skipped  as  very  tiresome.  Up  to  the  moment  of  hearing 
Miss  Willard  my  interest  in  the  temperance  movement 
was  not  greater  than  in  any  other  religious  or  philan- 
thropic enterprise.  I was  simply  waiting  on  God,  keep- 
ing my  heart  ready  to  obey  any  command  and  my  eyes 
open  to  catch  the  faintest  gleam  of  “ Kindly  Light  ” 
that  should  show  the  unmistakable  way. 

There  was  an  immense  audience  present  to  greet  Miss 


Miss  Frances  E.  Willard  135 

Willard.  It  was  afterward  told  me  that  she  had  visited 
Jackson  seven  times  before  but  had  never  been  able  to 
secure  a satisfactory  hearing,  except  when  she  spoke,  in 
1882,  before  the  legislature, — nobody  else,  however,  be- 
ing interested  enough  to  attend.  Mrs.  Harriet  B.  Kells, 
one  of  the  brainiest,  most  cultured  and  advanced  women 
of  the  South,  who  had  made  her  record  as  an  educator, 
and  afterward  became  distinguished  as  a journalist  and 
leader  of  thought  in  the  National  Woman's  Christian 
Temperance  Union, — had  determined  that  Jackson 
should  hear  Miss  Willard  this  time,  and,  by  the  use  of 
wise  methods,  including  elaborate  advertising,  had  been 
a potent  cause  of  the  assembling  of  the  vast  crowd  that 
sat  and  stood,  anxiously  awaiting  the  great  speaker. 
Many  were  turned  from  the  door  unable  to  gain  en- 
trance. The  State  Medical  Association,  which  was  in 
session  in  Jackson,  adjourned  in  honor  of  the  occasion. 

Seats  very  near  the  front  were  secured  by  my  friends 
and  myself  so  that  not  a word  of  the  orator  should  be 
lost  and  not  an  expression  of  her  countenance  be  missed, 
in  order  that  we  might  judge  what  manner  of  woman 
she  was.  She  came  quietly  into  the  pulpit,  modestly  at- 
tired. The  small  bonnet  which  was  worn  she  removed 
before  arising  to  speak.  One  glimpse  of  that  face  al- 
most divine,  one  echo  of  that  matchless  voice,  one 
charmed  moment  under  the  witchery  of  that  superb  in- 
tellect were  enough  to  form  an  epoch  in  a life,  to  create 
a memory  unmated  forever.  Miss  Willard  that  night 
was  the  peerless  orator,  the  gracious  Christian,  the  mar- 
velous reformer  who  shall  stand  forth  in  history  “ un- 
til there  shall  be  no  more  curse  ” and  “ the  kingdoms 


136  A Slaveholder's  Daughter 


of  this  world  are  become  the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord,  and 
of  His  Christ/'  While  she  was  speaking  a vision  arose 
before  me  of  the  glad  day  when  not  one  woman  only, 
but  women  of  all  lands  shall  have  entered  into  the 
human  heritage — as  man's  equal  in  society,  church  and 
state. 

Mrs.  Kells  came  to  me  at  the  close  of  the  address 
and  said : “ You  must  be  introduced  to  Miss  Willard. 
I think  she  will  like  you,"  and  drawing  me  forward  to 
the  altar  where  the  speaker  stood,  presented  me.  A 
cordial  greeting,  an  earnest  hand-clasp, — then  we 
passed  on  with  the  throng.  It  is  a little  remarkable  that 
I had  met  Mrs.  Kells  but  once  before,  and  during  our 
brief  acquaintance  there  had  been  only  a very  short  con- 
versation. 

The  day  following  Miss  Willard's  lecture,  in  com- 
pany with  Bessie  Fearn,  a call  was  made  upon  a mutual 
friend,  Miss  Sue  Tarpley,  who  was  visiting  in  Jackson. 
When  I was  sixteen  years  of  age  this  delightful  woman 
came  to  live  at  her  plantation  which  was  within  six 
miles  of  my  home.  We  soon  became  constant  compan- 
ions and  for  eleven  years  she  was  my  closest  friend,  ex- 
erting a blessed  influence  on  my  life.  She  came  just 
when  she  was  most  needed  in  my  mental  and  spiritual 
struggles.  Although  of  the  world  and  worldly-wise  she 
had  kept  herself  “ unspotted  from  the  world ; " was  in- 
tellectual, exquisitely  refined  and  of  the  loftiest  religious 
nature.  To  use  her  own  words  in  describing  a friend. 
“ She  was  like  a breath  of  autumn  flowers,  the  under- 
tone in  music  and  all  things  else  that  are  sweet  and  un- 


Miss  Frances  E.  Willard. 


*37 


forgetable.,,  Although  my  senior  by  several  years,  she 
took  me  into  her  “ holy  of  holies  " and  we  found  our- 
selves to  be  peculiarly  congenial. 

While  we  talked  together  in  Jackson  this  friend  said 
suddenly,  “ I somehow  feel  that  you  must  see  Miss 
Willard  and  have  a conversation  with  her.  These  pro- 
gressive women  are  total  strangers  to  the  traditions  of 
my  life,  for  I am  hopelessly  of  the  old  regime,  but  you 
are  thoroughly  interested  in  them.  Please  don't  waste 
another  moment  on  me,  but  go  at  once."  We  arose  to 
do  her  bidding.  When  we  reached  the  street  Bessie 
said  suddenly,  “ It  will  be  useless  to  try  to  see  Miss  Wil- 
lard at  this  hour;  she  is  at  dinner,  and  wouldn't  have 
time  afterward  to  receive  a call,  for  she  speaks  this 
afternoon  at  three  o'clock,  and  it  is  now  2 130.  Let  us 
go  around  to  the  church  and  wait  until  she  comes.  You 
may  possibly  have  a chance  to  talk  with  her  before  the 
meeting  opens." 

While  waiting  for  Miss  Willard,  Dr.  W.  C.  Black  sat 
near  me.  He  was  pastor  of  the  First  Methodist  Church 
in  Jackson  and  an  old  friend  of  my  family,  having  once 
filled  the  pulpit  at  Vernon.  He  had  since  risen  to  dis- 
tinction in  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,  and 
had  added  to  his  reputation  as  a most  invincible  antag- 
onist of  the  liquor  traffic,  and  by  the  publication  of  his 
recent  book,  “ Christian  Womanhood,"  which  fixed  his 
place  as  a scholarly,  broad-minded  thinker.  In  course  of 
conversation  he  was  told  of  my  late  acceptance  of 
Christ,  of  my  entire  consecration,  and  of  my  willing- 
ness to  be  sent  to  the  missionary  field,  to  enter  the  order 


138  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


of  deaconesses  or  to  go  into  the  temperance  work. 
These  three  forms  of  service  had  clung  persistently  in 
my  thought  ever  since  my  conversion. 

Miss  Willard  came  and  went  without  my  having  an 
opportunity  for  one  word  with  her.  There  were  a num- 
ber of  prominent  Mississippi  women  present,  en  route 
to  Crystal  Springs,  to  attend  the  annual  convention  of 
the  State  Woman’s  Christian  Temperance  Union.  Miss 
Willard  left  immediately  after  the  service  in  company 
with  them.  I supposed  we  should  never  meet  again. 
My  disappointment  was  keen. 


CHAPTER  XIV 


THE  NEW  CAREER 

To  each  man's  life  there  comes  a time  supreme; 

One  day,  one  night,  one  morning,  or  one  noon, 

One  freighted  hour,  one  moment  opportune, 

One  rift  through  which  divine  fulfillments  gleam, 

One  space  when  fate  goes  tiding  with  the  stream. 

— Mary  A.  Townsend. 

While  at  the  breakfast  table  two  days  after  Miss 
Willard's  visit  to  Jackson  the  servant  announced  that 
Dr.  Black  wished  to  see  me  in  the  parlor.  On  entering 
the  room  he  greeted  me  with  the  following  statement: 
“ I went  to  Crystal  Springs,  the  day  after  we  had  our 
conversation  in  the  church,  to  look  in  upon  the  State 
Convention.  While  there  I told  several  of  the  leaders 
what  you  had  said  in  reference  to  entire  consecration 
and  willingness  to  enter  the  temperance  work.  Mrs. 
Mary  E.  Ervin,  who  was  formerly  president  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi Woman's  Christian  Temperance  Union,  clapped 
her  hands  and  said : “ Praise  the  Lord ! For  four  years 
I have  been  praying  for  a young  woman  to  be  raised  up 
in  Mississippi  to  lead  the  young  women's  department  of 
the  work.  I have  been  commissioned,"  continued  Dr. 
Black,  “ by  the  foremost  women  of  the  convention  to 
tell  you  that  your  expenses  will  be  paid  to  Crystal 
Springs  and  that  you  will  be  entertained  there  if  you 

i39 


140 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


will  go  down  to  the  convention.  They  wish  you  to  come 
at  once.  You  have  one  hour  in  which  to  decide  and  to 
catch  the  train.  Will  you  go?  ” 

When  he  had  finished  speaking  there  swept  through 
my  mind,  like  a lightning  flash,  as  is  said  to  occur  to 
the  drowning,  the  memory  of  my  past  life.  Scene  after 
scene  in  vivid  panorama  glided  by.  Then  the  thought 
presented  itself  of  what  the  result  might  be  if  this 
strange  call  should  be  accepted.  It  would  lead  me  out 
of  the  trend  of  my  old  existence.  Doubtless  it  would 
mean  renunciation  of  home  life,  the  estrangement  of 
friends,  the  criticism  of  an  unsympathetic  world;  but 
through  all  my  retrospections  and  forecasts  there  was 
sounding  a voice  more  than  human,  with  an  imperative, 
unmistakable  ring:  “Go!  You  must  not  fail  to  go!” 
The  hour  of  my  destiny  had  come.  “ My  soul  was  not 
disobedient  unto  the  heavenly  vision.”  The  answer  was 
given  calmly  and  instantly : “ Dr.  Black,  in  one  hour 
I shall  be  on  the  train.” 

Hurriedly  my  dress  was  changed,  the  street  car 
reached,  my  ticket  bought  and  I was  seated  in  an  ex- 
press that  faced  south.  From  the  window  a good-bye 
was  waved  to  Bessie.  As  the  engine  pulled  out  she 
called:  “ Now,  remember,  Belle,  you  must  return 

this  afternoon  for  we  have  an  engagement  to  tea  at  a 
charming  home ! ” “ O,  that  shall  not  be  forgotten,” 

was  sent  back  in  reply.  “ Meet  me  at  the  depot  at  four 
o'clock.”  At  the  end  of  an  hour  or  two,  accompanied  by 
a minister,  who  came  down  in  the  car  with  me,  I went 
to  the  hall  where  the  convention  was  in  session  at  Crys- 
tal Springs. 


The  New  Career 


141 

What  a novel  spectacle  it  was  to  me ! The  delegates 
were  massed  together  in  perfect  order,  each  looking  so 
serious  and  intent ; the  stage  was  filled  with  women  and 
decorated  with  flowers,  while  the  walls  were  bright  with 
banners.  There  were  stirring  debates  and  tactful  en- 
gineering of  parliamentary  points.  A beautiful  Chris- 
tian spirit,  holy  enthusiasm  and  sublime  devotion  for 
a great  cause  seemed  to  animate  all. 

A seat  was  taken  on  entering  in  the  rear  of  the  room, 
but  in  a few  minutes  Mrs.  Kells  saw  me  and  sent  a 
page  to  conduct  me  to  the  platform.  There  were  Miss 
Willard  and  Miss  Anna  Gordon,  the  noble  young 
woman  who  had  accompanied  the  former  in  all  her 
labors  and  travels  and  who  superintended  the  juvenile 
temperance  work  of  the  nation ; Mrs.  Mary  McGehee 
Snell,  now  Mrs.  Hall,  who  afterward  became  the  most 
celebrated  woman  evangelist  in  the  South  ; Mrs.  Lavinia 
S.  Mount,  the  devoted  state  president  of  the  Missis- 
sippi Union,  and  other  distinguished  women. 

After  the  adjournment  of  the  morning  session  Mrs. 
Kells  said  to  me:  “ Now,  my  dear,  if  you  wish  to  learn 
something  about  the  Woman's  Christian  Temperance 
Union  you  must  not  think  of  leaving  here  before  the 
convention  closes." 

“ O,  but  I have  an  engagement  for  tea  this  evening 
in  Jackson ! " was  my  protest. 

“ This  occasion  is  decidedly  more  important  than  a 
tea,"  she  answered.  “ Send  a telegram  at  once  saying 
you  will  not  return." 

The  message  was  sent  and  on  the  days  and  nights 
following  I attended  every  session  of  the  convention, 


142 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


and  was  profoundly  interested  in  them.  Miss  Gordon’s 
address  was  the  first  I had  heard  given  to  children.  It 
made  a lasting  impression  as  a model  in  its  line.  Before 
that  experience  practical  illustration  in  public  speaking 
was  an  unknown  art  to  me. 

During  a meeting,  Mrs.  Kells  whispered  in  my  ear, 
“ It  would  not  be  surprising  if  you  were  appointed  state 
superintendent  and  organizer  of  the  L.  T.  L.  and  Y.  W. 
C.  T.  U.”  The  intimation  dazed  me.  Those  letters 
which  slipped  so  glibly  from  her  tongue  were  as  cabal- 
istic to  me  as  the  incantations  of  an  Indian  juggler.  “ Do 
please  explain  all  that,”  was  my  puzzled  appeal. 
“ Why,”  she  exclaimed,  looking  at  me  with  astonish- 
ment, “ L.  T.  L.  stands  for  Loyal  Temperance  Legion, 
which  is  a juvenile  society,  and  Y.  W.  C.  T.  U.  for 
Young  Woman’s  Christian  Temperance  Union.  It  will 
all  come  to  you  in  the  most  natural  manner.  You  must 
be  introduced  to  the  convention.” 

“ Oh ! don’t  do  that ! ” was  my  imploring  answer. 
“ Being  introduced  to  this  body  of  women  would  be  a 
new  and  a terrible  ordeal  for  me.  I should  not  know 
whether  to  stand  up  or  to  sit  down,  to  laugh  or  to  cry.” 

“ O,  well,”  she  assured  me,  “ if  you  dread  it  like  that 
it  shall  not  be  done.” 

She  forgot  her  promise.  On  the  last  afternoon  of 
the  convention,  without  giving  me  a hint  of  her  purpose, 
she  walked  to  the  edge  of  the  rostrum  and  announced 
my  appointment  by  the  executive  committee  as  state 
superintendent  and  organizer  of  those  strange  orders 
with  the  mystical  capitals.  “ Will  Miss  Kearney  come 
to  the  platform  ? ” she  continued.  There  was  nothing 


The  New  Career 


*43 


for  me  to  do  but  to  go.  She  took  my  hand,  and  intro- 
duced me  to  the  delegates,  who  arose  and  gave  the 
Chautauqua  salute.  In  a low  tone  she  said : “ You  must 
say  something  now.” 

“ Impossible ! " was  my  reply.  “ I haven't  opened  my 
lips  before  an  audience  since  reading  my  Commence- 
ment essay,  eleven  years  ago." 

“ Oh ! but  you  must,"  she  insisted ; “ this  is  a good 
time  to  begin."  Turning  complacently  to  the  assembly 
she  added : “ I'm  telling  Miss  Kearney  that  she  might 
as  well  make  her  first  speech  here  as  elsewhere." 

With  a supreme  effort  I said : “ Dear  friends : I 
haven't  a conception  of  what  it  means  to  be  a state  su- 
perintendent and  organizer  of  the  L.  T.  L.  and  Y.  W. 
C.  T.  U.  The  existence  of  your  organization  was  un- 
known to  me  three  weeks  ago.  My  ignorance  concern- 
ing your  methods  is  absolute ; but  something  in  my  soul 
tells  me  that  I must  undertake  this  work.  In  accepting 
the  position  with  which  you  honor  me  my  promise  is 
given  to  consecrate  the  best  powers  of  my  young 
womanhood  to  the  cause  to  which  this  day  my  allegiance 
is  declared." 

Just  as  my  little  speech  was  finished  Miss  Willard 
stepped  forward  and  putting  her  arm  about  me  said 
some  complimentary  words  of  cheer.  In  a few  minutes 
the  convention  adjourned  and  the  women,  old  and 
young,  crowded  around,  welcoming  me  to  their  sister- 
hood and  extending  hearty  invitations  to  visit  their  lo- 
calities, to  speak  and  to  organize.  It  was  impossible  to 
answer  them.  My  voice  was  choked,  my  eyes  were 
clouded  with  the  mist  of  unshed  tears.  How  strange 


i44 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


it  all  seemed!  What  was  to  be  the  outcome?  Not  a 
soul  explained  my  duties,  not  a suggestion  was  given. 
No  one  had  talked  with  me  about  the  Woman's  Chris- 
tian Temperance  Union  within  the  two  weeks  since  I 
had  learned  of  there  being  such  an  organization.  I 
knew  nothing  of  its  history  nor  how  to  procure  liter- 
ature to  enlighten  me.  In  the  rush  of  those  few  days 
at  Crystal  Springs  no  one  had  found  time  to  answer 
questions.  One  morning  I had  sought  an  interview 
with  Miss  Willard  at  the  home  of  her  hostess.  She 
walked  up  and  down  the  parlor  with  hand  clasped  in 
mine  talking  lovingly  and  hopefully  of  my  future,  but 
it  did  not  occur  to  me  to  ask  her  about  books  and  papers 
bearing  on  the  temperance  question.  As  Anna  Gordon 
had  passed  through  the  room  she  handed  me  a little 
package  of  leaflets. 

On  returning  to  Jackson  from  the  convention,  my 
next  step  was  to  go  to  Canton  with  the  purpose  of 
standing  another  examination  in  order  to  resume  my 
school  in  the  fall.  I had  given  myself  to  the  W.  C.  T. 
U.  work,  it  is  true,  but  it  all  seemed  very  vague; 
especially  how  I was  to  be  fed  and  clothed,  for  the  of- 
ficers had  told  me  there  would  be  no  fixed  salary;  I 
learned  later  that  expenses  and  remuneration  would 
depend  on  collections  at  my  places  of  appointment.  So 
the  practical  thing,  it  seemed  to  me,  was  to  teach  and 
supervise  the  work  of  the  two  departments  now  under 
my  charge,  not  dreaming  of  going  out  into  public  life 
and  making  speeches.  It  presented  itself  as  an  absurd- 
ity that  I should  organize  others  into  a temperance 
society  in  which  my  own  name  was  yet  to  be  enrolled. 


The  New  Career 


1 45 

However,  my  time-worn  plan  of  keeping  myself  in  a 
state  of  preparedness  was  available  in  this  crisis. 

I shut  myself  in  my  room  and  studied  those  leaflets 
that  Miss  Gordon  had  given  me  with  the  earnestness 
and  devotion  that  final  examination  for  university  hon- 
ors would  demand. 

On  my  knees,  day  and  night,  I cried  out  for  guidance 
from  Almighty  God.  No  help  could  be  obtained  from 
my  aunt  and  uncle,  for  their  ignorance  of  the  subject 
was  as  dense  as  my  own.  When  their  counsel  was 
sought  with  reference  to  my  going  into  the  work,  they 
both  said : “ Do  it,  honey,  if  you  want  to ; it  is  a new 
departure  to  us ; we  can't  say  what  is  best." 

In  loneliness  of  spirit  and  yearning  inexpressibly  for 
some  word  of  advice  and  sympathy,  a visit  was  made 
to  the  Methodist  pastor,  the  man  under  whose  ministry 
my  entrance  into  the  church  had  been  effected,  when  a 
little  girl,  and  from  whose  hands  had  been  taken  my 
first  communion;  he  it  was  also  who  had  accompanied 
me  from  the  train  to  the  hall  during  the  recent  conven- 
tion at  Crystal  Springs.  In  a very  hurried  manner  he 
entered  the  sitting-room  of  the  parsonage  and,  as  hur- 
riedly greeting  me,  announced  that  it  was  very  near  the 
hour  for  his  prayer-meeting.  While  we  talked  he 
turned  over  the  leaves  of  a hymn  book  searching  for 
the  needs  of  his  coming  service.  “ Pardon  me,"  was 
my  first  hesitating  venture,  “ but  can  you  tell  me  any- 
thing about  the  Woman's  Christian  Temperance 
Union  ? " 

“ No,  ma'am,  I cannot ; " still  turning  over  the  leaves. 

“ Well,"  swallowing  to  keep  down  a sob,  “ can  you 


146  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


tell  me  anything  about  the  Washingtonian  movement 
and  the  earlier  efforts  of  temperance  reformers  ? ” 

“ Not  a thing,”  bending  his  head  lower  to  discern  the 
numbers  of  his  hymns.  “ Can  you  give  me  an  account 
of  Father  Matthew’s  work  in  Ireland,  or  tell  me  if  there 
is  a Catholic  temperance  society  in  America?” 

“ I can  give  you  nothing  at  all  on  those  subjects,”  was 
the  reply,  leaning  back  in  his  chair  and  covering  his 
mouth  with  the  book  to  suppress  a yawn. 

“ You,  perhaps,  know,”  was  my  last  despairing  effort, 
“ of  my  appointment  as  state  superintendent  and  or- 
ganizer of  the  Loyal  Temperance  Legion  and  of  the 
Young  Woman's  Christian  Temperance  Union  at  the 
convention  just  adjourned  at  Crystal  Springs?  What 
do  you  think  of  my  entering  the  work  ? ” 

“ You  can  do  as  you  please,  Miss  Belle,”  he  answered, 
rising.  “ Of  course,  you  may  be  sure  that  you  will  meet 
with  nothing  but  snubs.  I should  certainly  hate  to  see 
my  wife  or  daughter  undertake  such  a life.”  He  ex- 
cused himself  and  went  to  his  prayer-meeting — which 
was  composed,  as  usual,  of  about  ten  women  and  two 
men — leaving  me  alone  to  work  out  my  own  salvation, 
or  not,  as  might  be. 

My  next  thought  was  to  go  to  my  old  friend,  Mrs. 
Drane,  who  was  a staunch  Presbyterian,  by  the  way, 
and  unburden  my  soul  to  her.  In  her  gentle,  kindly 
fashion,  she  said : “ I know  nothing  of  the  Woman's 
Christian  Temperance  Union,  but  from  what  you  tell 
me  about  it  and  of  your  own  convictions,  I feel  it  is  the 
call  of  God  to  you  and  that  it  would  be  spiritual  suicide 
for  you  to  disregard  it.  My  advice  is  to  go  through 


The  New  Career 


147 

no  more  examinations,  think  no  more  of  teaching  but 
give  yourself  wholly  to  this  work  for  humanity.” 

As  soon  as  my  commission  had  been  received  I wrote 
to  father  and  mother  for  their  opinions.  Mother  an- 
swered : “ My  darling,  I have  always  taught  you  to  enter 
every  open  door  if  it  led  to  wider  service  for  the  Lord 
Jesus.  If  you  are  persuaded  that  God  wants  you  in  this 
temperance  work  don’t  fail  to  enter  upon  it ; and  I will 
give  you  up  if  it  breaks  my  heart.  Flowers  are  kept 
in  your  room  while  you  are  away  as  before  a shrine,  and 
I long  continually  for  a glimpse  of  your  face;  but  my 
suffering  and  loneliness  now  are  as  ‘ nothing  compared 
to  the  glory  that  shall  be  revealed  in  us  ’ through  entire 
submission  to  the  will  of  Him  ‘ who  loved  us  and  gave 
Himself  for  us.’  ” Father  wrote : “ In  a supreme  mo- 
ment, such  as  that  which  has  come  to  you,  no  human 
being  beside  yourself  can  settle  the  question  of  destiny. 
It  rests  with  you  and  your  God.  You  are  standing  ‘ on 
holy  ground.’  I would  not  profane  it  by  even  a sug- 
gestion as  to  your  duty.  You  are  my  only  daughter, 
and  I love  you  as  I love  my  life ; but  if  you  feel  divinely 
called  to  go  from  home  to  ‘ sow  beside  all  waters/  I 
say  go  most  gladly,  and  may  the  richest  blessing  of  our 
heavenly  Father  attend  you.” 

My  brothers  wrote  later  that  they  could  not  appre- 
ciate the  motive  which  actuated  me  to  relinquish  a sub- 
stantial salary  as  a teacher  and  go  into  a strange  work 
without  a dollar  in  view ; but  if  my  conscience  prompted 
that  it  was  my  duty,  they  would  offer  no  opposition  but 
follow  me  in  my  travels  with  loyal  hearts.  All  my  fears 
vanished  after  receiving  those  letters  from  my  dear 


148  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


ones,  so  full  of  faith  and  approbation.  A renewed  con- 
secration of  myself  to  God  was  made  at  once,  promising 
to  go  wherever  He  directed  and  do  whatever  work  He 
gave  me  and  ask  no  questions  about  bread,  but  suffer 
want  and  persecution  if  need  be  to  promote  the  blessed 
cause  that  claimed  my  fealty.  Every  association  was 
rejected  that  hampered  and  every  tie  severed  that  bound 
me  to  the  old  existence.  In  the  strength  and  majesty 
of  a sublime  purpose,  I arose  and  shook  myself  free ! 

The  call  of  God  had  come.  Through  that  assurance 
a deep  peace  abided  with  me,  a joyous  rest  in  Him. 
There  has  been  ever  since  a new  song  in  my  heart,  a 
new  light  in  my  soul,  a new  inspiration  in  my  life,  a 
definite,  sacred  purpose  that  has  never  died  out.  My 
mission  was  found.  No  more  advice  was  asked  for,  no 
more  sympathy  sought.  I closed  the  door  to  all  the 
world  but  God, — and  wrote  my  speeches. 


CHAPTER  XV 


MY  FIRST  SPEECH 

Ah,  but  a man's  reach  should  exceed  his  grasp, 

Or  what’s  a heaven  for? 

— Robt.  Browning. 

Among  the  leaflets  in  Anna  Gordon’s  package  was 
one  of  Miss  Willard’s  annual  addresses  and  some  of 
Mrs.  Mary  H.  Hunt’s  publications  on  scientific  tem- 
perance instruction.  From  these  it  was  easy  to  gain  a 
comprehensive  idea  of  the  scope  and  purpose  of  the 
woman’s  war  against  the  liquor  traffic  and  definite  plans 
for  the  children’s  organization.  On  a tract  designed  for 
the  Y.  W.  C.  T.  U.,  the  name  and  address  of  Miss  Mary 
McDowell,  one  of  the  national  organizers  of  the  Young 
Woman’s  work,  were  found.  I communicated  imme- 
diately with  her  explaining  my  ignorant  but  inquiring 
state  and  asking  for  some  literature  bearing  directly  on 
her  subject.  She  promptly  forwarded  several  leaflets. 
From  this  store  of  valuables  sufficient  information  was 
culled  to  enable  me  to  prepare  two  speeches, — one  for 
young  women,  the  other  for  children. 

I had  never  taken  an  elocution  lesson  and  knew  noth- 
ing of  voice  culture.  My  unprospected  field  was  en- 
tered literally  without  training.  The  state  president 

149 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


*5° 

urged  me  to  go  at  once  into  the  work  of  lecturing  and 
organizing.  She  sent  me  the  address  of  a young  woman 
who  was  anxious  to  have  a union  formed  among  the 
girls  at  a little  place  near  Port  Gibson.  While  definite 
arrangements  were  being  made  for  this  trip,  a visit  was 
paid  to  my  home  for  a greeting  and  good-bye  to  mother 
and  father  and  the  boys.  Before  leaving,  a meeting 
was  planned  for  the  children  and  my  first  public  ad- 
dress was  given  in  the  Baptist  church  at  Flora.  Notes 
were  placed  on  a table  conveniently  near,  but  they  had 
to  be  glanced  at  only  once  or  twice.  I talked  without 
embarrassment.  Several  nights  after,  a meeting  was 
held  in  the  Methodist  church  for  the  people  at  large. 
No  address  was  attempted  but  the  manuscript  of  my 
speech  for  young  women  was  read,  and  a Y.  W.  C.  T. 
U.  was  formed.  There  were  only  four  girls  present, 
but  every  one  joined.  The  smallness  of  the  union 
caused  many  to  smile.  Noticing  the  amusement  rip- 
pling over  the  audience,  I said : “ This  is  a weak  begin- 
ning but  I prophesy  that  within  three  years  there  will 
not  be  a saloon  in  this  town.”  At  the  end  of  three  years 
there  was  not  a legalized  dramshop  in  the  entire  district 
and  public  sentiment  had  been  revolutionized  respecting 
the  liquor  traffic. 

A letter  finally  came  from  Miss  Russell,  the  young 
woman  near  Port  Gibson,  saying  that  arrangements  had 
been  perfected  and  that  she  would  meet  me  at  the  near- 
est railway  station.  One  bright,  hot  day  in  June,  about 
six  weeks  after  receiving  my  commission  from  the 
Crystal  Springs  convention,  I stepped  off  the  train,  with 
umbrella  and  traveling  satchel,  to  fill  my  first  appoint- 


My  First  Speech  1 5 i 

ment,  as  a W.  C.  T.  U.  organizer.  There  was  no  one 
to  greet  me.  On  taking  my  bearings,  the  village  was 
found  to  consist  of  several  small  stores  and  a few  resi- 
dences scattered  far  apart.  Nobody  was  at  the  depot 
from  whom  information  could  be  gleaned,  it  being 
quickly  deserted  after  the  train  had  passed;  so,  one  of 
the  stores  was  invaded  and  a clerk  asked  if  he  could 
tell  me  where  to  find  a boarding  place.  “ Over  the  hill,” 
he  answered,  jerking  his  thumb  eastward.  Summon- 
ing my  reserve  forces,  the  climb  up  the  dusty  road  was 
begun. 

“ Over  the  hill,”  sure  enough,  there  was  a boarding 
house,  clean  and  white,  close  by  the  highway.  On 
knocking  at  the  entrance,  a tall,  stout  woman  peered 
from  behind  the  door  at  the  end  of  the  front  hall.  “ Good 
morning ! ” I said  cheerfully,  her  silence  forcing  me  to 
take  the  initiative.  “ Will  you  allow  me  to  spend  to-day 
and  to-morrow  here  ? ” It  was  Saturday ; and  I did  not 
travel  on  Sunday. 

“ Well,  yes,  I reckon  so ! ” was  the  answer,  but  she 
did  not  ask  me  to  come  in,  and  continued  to  eye  me 
cautiously.  Still  waiting,  my  interrogatives  were  plied 
in  self-defence.  “ Is  Miss  Russell  in  town  ? ” 

“ No,  indeed ! she  lives  several  miles  out  in  the  coun- 
try and  has  not  been  here  for  weeks.” 

My  heart  sank.  “ Do  you  know  Miss  Russell  ? ” 

“ Yes,  that  I do ! ” A broad  smile  broke  over  the  land- 
lady’s face.  “ She  used  to  board  here  and  teach  school. 
Do  you  know  Miss  Russell  ? ” she  asked  in  turn. 

“ No ; but  she  has  been  inviting  me  to  come  here  to 
speak  on  temperance  and  organize  a union  among  the 


152  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

young  women.  She  promised  to  meet  me  here  to- 
day.” 

“ Won’t  you  sit  down?  ” asked  the  landlady  emerging 
from  behind  the  door,  and  apologizing  for  her  lame  foot 
and  disheveled  appearance.  “ Miss  Russell  may  come 
in  yet.  I haven’t  heard  a word  about  the  meeting. 
When  did  you  expect  to  speak  ? ” 

“ To-morrow  night.  Miss  Russell  was  to  arrange 
everything.” 

“ Well,  nothing  has  been  done  that  I know  of.  Folks 
are  here  from  all  over  the  county  to-day  to  a big  picnic 
in  the  grove  back  of  the  house.  They  ain’t  thinking 
about  temperance.  You  can  see  them  gathering  now.” 

Looking  in  the  direction  indicated  there  were  seen 
some  hundreds  of  persons  coming  into  the  woods  and 
disporting  themselves  in  true  picnic  fashion.  An  in- 
spiration seized  me.  “ Since  the  journey  has  been  taken 
here,  I certainly  do  not  intend  going  away  without  hold- 
ing a meeting,”  I declared.  “ If  a number  of  notices 
are  written  will  you  have  them  put  up  all  over  the  picnic 
grounds  ? ” 

“ Of  course  I will ! ” the  landlady  rejoined.  Forth- 
with, my  satchel  was  opened  and  in  a few  moments  the 
following  arrestive  words  were  scrawled  in  a mam- 
moth hand:  Great  W.  C.  T.  U.  Meeting  To-morrow 
Night  ! A Mississippi  Woman  Will  Speak  ! Come  ! 
Come!  Come! 

My  coadjutor  remained  true  to  her  promise  and  the 
notices  were  posted.  Miss  Russell  arrived  early  the 
next  morning  and  satisfactorily  explained  her  previous 
non-appearance.  Arrangements  had  been  made  for  me 


*53 


My  First  Speech 

to  speak  in  the  village  church ; an  announcement  of  the 
lecture  was  read  from  the  pulpit  at  the  eleven  o’clock 
service.  Sunday  night  the  church  was  packed  with  peo- 
ple who  had  come  from  far  and  near  to  behold  the  nov- 
elty of  a woman  speaker.  When  the  audience  was 
viewed  from  my  position  at  the  altar  my  courage  fell 
below  zero.  The  blood  seemed  to  freeze  in  my  veins. 
The  opening  services  seemed  remarkably  brief  and  the 
presiding  minister  was  introducing  me  to  the  congre- 
gation. Not  a word  that  he  uttered  was  comprehended 
by  my  dazed  faculties,  but  when  he  sat  down  the  fact 
appeared  that  my  hour  had  come.  Holding  to  the  com- 
munion table  for  support  I said : “ It  will  be  impossible 
for  me  to  speak  to-night  unless  some  young  woman  in 
the  audience  will  first  pray.”  Miss  Russell  had  given  me 
the  names  of  several  consecrated  girls  who  had  received 
fine  spiritual  training  at  the  State  Industrial  Institute 
and  College,  so  one  of  these  was  called  on.  Without 
hesitation  the  noble  young  woman  responded. 

When  the  prayer  closed  my  address  was  begun  and 
carried  to  the  end  with  ease.  The  manuscript  which 
was  spread  out  before  me  was  referred  to  but  once. 
The  transport  of  enthusiasm,  the  inexplicable  fervor, 
the  exquisite  joy,  the  utter  abandon  that  often  comes 
to  public  speakers  in  appealing  to  the  intellect  and  stir- 
ring the  emotions  of  an  audience  descended  upon  me. 
It  was  forgotten  whether  the  listeners  were  opposers  or 
sympathizers.  Nothing  was  remembered  but  that  my 
speaking  was  for  deepening  and  broadening  the  outlook 
for  young  womanhood  and  the  ultimate  redemption  of 
mankind  from  the  curse  of  drink  and  the  blight  of  social 


* 54 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


impurity.  It  is  worth  the  effort  of  a life-time  to  ex- 
perience the  divineness  of  such  a touch. 

From  the  hour  of  my  speech  in  that  little  town  until 
this  day, — which  means  the  test  of  nearly  eleven  years 
on  the  platform — a manuscript  has  not  been  referred  to 
but  once  and  notes  have  been  used  only  two  or  three 
times.  I concluded  that  decidedly  the  best  course  to  be 
pursued  was  not  to  be  hampered  by  the  consciousness 
that  succor  was  near  but  throw  myself  completely  on 
my  own  resources  and  trust.  At  the  close  of  this  my 
first  address  to  an  adult  audience  my  second  Young 
Woman’s  Christian  Temperance  Union  was  formed. 

Several  years  after  this  experience,  Miss  Russell  en- 
tered the  work  of  the  Woman’s  Christian  Temperance 
Union  as  state  lecturer  and  organizer  and  it  was  my 
pleasant  privilege  to  arrange  a meeting  for  her  From  a 
girlhood  of  heroic  achievement  she  advanced  to  an  en- 
viable position  as  one  of  the  foremost  teachers  of  Mis- 
sissippi, and  from  the  school-room  stepped  easily  upon 
the  platform. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

“ AWAY  DOWN  SOUTH  IN  DIXIE  ” 

There  is  no  road  to  success  but  through  a clear,  strong  pur- 
pose.  A purpose  underlies  character,  culture,  position,  attain- 
ment of  whatever  sort. — T.  T.  Munger. 

When  my  public  work  began,  acquaintance  with  the 
W.  C.  T.  U.  was  so  limited  that  it  seemed  impossible 
to  speak  those  letters  in  the  order  in  which  they  should 
come.  I would  nearly  always  say  W.  T.  U.  C.  or  W.  T. 
C.  U.  until  they  were  conned  over  and  over  again — W. 
C.  T.  U.,  W. — C. — T. — U. — like  a child  studying  its 
lesson.  My  all  was  given  to  the  Woman’s  Christian 
Temperance  Union  and  its  service  was  entered  with  the 
avowed  determination  to  succeed,  cost  what  it  might  of 
personal  energy  and  sacrifice.  It  was  felt  that  I was 
called  to  push  the  work  and  not  for  the  work  to  push  me. 

When  Mrs.  Mount,  the  state  president,  failed  to  se- 
cure engagements  for  me  in  certain  places,  which  some- 
times happened,  if  the  towns  were  in  need  of  an  organ- 
ization my  creative  faculties  were  set  to  work  to  ac- 
complish our  purpose  regardless  of  the  obstinacy  of  the 
hindrances.  Every  available  orthodox  means  was  used. 
A letter  was  first  written  to  the  minister  whose  name 
had  been  given  as  a sympathizer  with  the  temperance 

i55 


156  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


movement,  explaining  my  mission  and  requesting  that 
he  secure  me  an  audience,  provide  entertainment  and  al- 
low a collection  to  be  taken  at  the  meeting,  to  defray 
expenses.  If  a reply  was  received  saying  there  was  no 
opening  another  preacher  was  written  to,  and  so  on,  un- 
til the  ministerial  circle  in  the  town  was  completed.  If 
all  wrote  that  it  was  a hopeless  undertaking,  then  letters 
were  sent  to  leading  Christian  women  whose  names  had 
been  secured  through  the  ministers.  If  these  failed 
then  men  and  women  outside  the  churches  were  ap- 
pealed to ; the  destined  place  was  always  reached  in  the 
end,  and  a union  among  the  children  or  the  young 
women  was  invariably  formed. 

After  being  fairly  started  it  was  easy  sailing  for  me 
in  Mississippi.  The  loveliest  homes  in  the  state  stood 
wide  open  with  a warm  welcome ; the  press  was  gen- 
erous in  its  expression, — even  the  papers  most  conserva- 
tive on  the  woman  question  and  prohibition  never  once 
publishing  an  unkind  criticism;  and  the  blessed  minis- 
ters, with  a few  isolated  exceptions,  gave  me  the  hearti- 
est reception  and  most  cordial  co-operation.  Without 
them  very  little  could  have  been  effected.  They  offered 
me  the  use  of  their  churches  and  the  hospitality  of  their 
parsonages ; they  spent  portions  of  their  limited  salaries 
to  advertise  the  meetings,  hireing  conveyances  to  drive 
me  long  distances  through  the  country  to  meet  appoint- 
ments and  accompanying  me  from  place  to  place  on  the 
railroads  to  insure  a successful  attempt  at  organization. 
They  failed  in  nothing  that  was  true  and  brotherly  and 
Christ-like.  To  them  the  deepest  gratitude  of  my  heart 
is  rendered  faithfully  and  reverently.  It  is  amusing 


Away  Down  South  in  Dixie  157 

to  know  some  of  the  influences  that  operated  to  intro- 
duce my  work.  The  third  effort  at  making  a speech 
was  at  the  Methodist  Camp-ground,  on  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico,  near  the  little  village  of  Biloxi.  While  there, 
a young  girl  about  seventeen  years  of  age,  was  intro- 
duced to  me:  she  was  very  gay,  very  bright,  and  an 
ardent  Episcopalian.  It  was  learned  that  she  lived  in 
one  of  the  adjacent  towns,  back  from  the  coast,  and  that 
the  place  was  full  of  young  ladies.  On  being  asked 
if  she  would  arrange  a meeting  for  me  on  her  return 
home,  she  replied  that  it  was  quite  impossible.  In  the 
afternoon  of  the  same  day  she  went  with  me  to  hear 
Bishop  Keener  preach.  Returning  from  the  service,  she 
said  suddenly : “ I believe,  after  all,  an  audience  can  be 
secured  for  you  in  my  town.  In  an  hour  or  two  I shall 
leave  and  will  write  you  in  the  course  of  a few  days 
what  the  prospect  is.”  Within  a week  I had  received 
an  invitation  to  come,  had  gone,  had  organized  a very 
large  Y.  W.  C.  T.  U.,  and  had  been  royally  entertained 
in  the  home  of  the  young  girl’s  parents,  who  were  ele- 
gant people.  Just  before  leaving  my  little  hostess  said, 
with  a mischievous  smile,  “ Did  it  ever  occur  to  you 
that  my  mind  was  changed  very  quickly  that  day  you 
asked  me  to  secure  you  an  audience  here  ? ” On  ac- 
knowledging that  I had  often  wondered  what  was  the 
cause,  she  explained  as  follows : “ When  you  first  spoke 
to  me  I was  undecided  whether  the  dress  you  wore  was 
sateen  or  China  silk.  If  it  had  been  sateen  you  would 
not  have  been  asked  to  this  place ; but  during  the  prayer 
after  the  Bishop’s  sermon  I found  it  was  China  silk,  and 
at  once  concluded  to  have  you  come.” 


158  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


“ It  is  not  fine  feathers  that  make  fine  birds,”  truly, 
but  it  has  been  discovered  to  my  sorrow  for  humanity, 
that  it  is  often  fine  clothes  that  gain  a hearing  for  a 
speaker  in  an  unpopular  cause. 

Day  by  day  valuable  experience  was  being  added 
to  my  limited  store.  In  a few  months  a visit  was  paid 
to  a little  country  place,  near  Natchez  called  Washing- 
ton, one  of  the  historic  landmarks  of  Mississippi, — once 
the  territorial  capital  and  the  place  where  the  first  Con- 
stitutional Convention  of  the  new  state  met,  in  1817; 
the  old  Methodist  church  in  which  it  was  held  is  still 
standing.  Here  Aaron  Burr  was  taken,  in  1807,  after 
his  capture,  en  route  on  his  supposed  treasonable  ex- 
pedition to  Mexico,  and  here  he  gave  bond  to  appear 
before  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  Mississippi  Territory. 
Jefferson  College,  for  the  education  of  boys,  was  located 
there  in  1802.  This  venerable  institution  now  opened 
wide  its  hospitable  doors  to  receive  me. 

The  minister  who  had  invited  me  said:  “ Your  meet- 
ing is  to  be  in  the  afternoon.  No  one  will  be  present 
except  some  old  settlers.  It  will  be  best  to  talk  to  them 
on  Prohibition.”  At  that  time,  my  knowledge  of  the 
methods  employed  in  the  abolition  of  the  liquor  traffic 
went  no  farther  than  the  principles  involved  in  simple 
total  abstinence;  but  some  points  gotten  up  in  my  jour- 
neyings  on  the  legal  side  of  the  question  were  put  to- 
gether, and  we  went  to  the  church  expecting  to  find 
about  two  dozen  elderly  ladies  and  gentlemen  congre- 
gated; but  not  a soul  was  present,  and  as  soon  as  we 
arrived  it  had  begun  to  rain.  Just  as  the  thought  pre- 
sented itself  of  suggesting  to  the  minister  and  the  two 


Away  Down  South  in  Dixie  159 

friends  who  had  accompanied  us  that  we  return,  lo ! the 
doors  opened  and  in  marched  about  fifty  students, 
dressed  in  uniforms,  ranging  in  age  apparently  from 
fifteen  to  twenty-five,  and  calmly  took  their  seats  with 
exact  military  precision. 

Terror  seized  me.  There  were  only  two  set  speeches 
in  my  repertoire:  one  was  for  girls  and  the  other  for 
children ; the  facts  that  had  been  prepared  for  the  “ old 
settlers  ” would  answer  no  better.  What  7 vas  to  be 
done?  As  soon  as  the  students  appeared  the  minister 
sat  down  at  the  organ,  without  saying  “ By  your  leave, ” 
and  proceeded  to  sing ; then  he  prayed  and  immediately 
after  introduced  me.  It  would  have  been  far  easier  to 
have  faced  a fire  of  musketry  in  the  heat  of  battle  than 
the  calm  gaze  of  those  placid  young  men.  There  they 
sat,  still  and  solemn  as  the  judges  of  the  Areopagus,  not 
relieving  the  cruel  tension  by  the  faintest  indication  of 
a smile  or  a frown.  While  standing  before  them  the 
wish  uppermost  in  my  heart  was  that  the  planks  of  the 
old  church  floor  would  split  and  let  me  drop  through 
to  some  happier  spot : but  as  the  awful  seconds  went  by 
and  no  hope  presented  itself  in  that  direction,  or  any 
other,  a brave  front  was  assumed,  and  going  on  the 
principle  that  “ honesty  is  the  best  policy  ” the  deplor- 
able condition  was  revealed  to  them : “ Boys,  I have  no 
idea  what  to  talk  to  you  about  this  afternoon,”  was  my 
frank  avowal.  “ Never  before  has  an  audience  of  young 
men  greeted  me.  Your  august  presence  is  overwhelm- 
ing. Since  entering  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  work,  meetings 
have  been  held  for  the  public,  it  is  true,  but  my  speeches 
were  made  for  the  benefit  either  of  girls  or  children. 


160  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

You  do  not  belong  to  the  first  class,  so  my  usual  re- 
marks in  that  line  cannot  be  applied ; consequently,  the 
nearest  approach  to  the  fitness  of  things  will  be  to  speak 
to  you  as  if  you  were  little  children/’ 

At  this  the  reserve  of  my  auditors  was  broken  and 
they  laughed  aloud  and  clapped  their  hands.  Encour- 
aged by  this  demonstration  of  approval,  without  further 
apology  I made  a talk  on  Scientific  Temperance,  telling 
them  of  the  evil  effects  of  alcohol  and  tobacco  on  the 
human  system.  They  listened  with  absorbing  interest 
throughout,  and,  at  the  close,  gave  the  most  tumultu- 
ous applause. 

That  night  was  spent  at  the  college  as  the  guest  of 
the  president’s  wife.  While  sitting  in  the  parlor  after 
supper  a committee  of  young  men  waited  on  me  with 
a request  from  the  student  body  that  an  address  be  made 
to  them  in  the  chapel,  saying  that  study  hours  had  been 
postponed,  by  special  favor  of  the  president,  until  the 
meeting  was  concluded.  The  invitation  staggered  me. 
“ Oh ! boys ! ” was  my  reply  in  real  distress  and  em- 
barrassment,” you  were  told  all  that  I know  in  the 
church  this  afternoon ; my  supply  is  exhausted.” 
“ Come  and  tell  us  the  same  things  over,”  they  urged. 
“ The  students  are  so  anxious  to  hear  you  once  more. 
Several  sent  word  that  if  you  would  speak  to  them  again 
to-night  they  would  sign  the  pledge  against  the  use  of 
liquor  and  tobacco.”  That  inducement  was  too  alluring 
to  be  resisted ; so  my  opposition  weakened  and  consent 
was  given  to  hold  a meeting. 

As  soon  as  the  delegation  disappeared  to  report  the 
result  of  the  interview  and  to  gather  the  clans,  my  room 


Away  Down  South  in  Dixie  161 

was  sought,  and  covering  my  face  with  my  hands  to 
shut  out  all  distracting  objects,  my  brain  was  ransacked 
for  every  fact  and  story  that  had  ever  been  read  or 
heard  on  the  temperance  question,  and  every  deed  of 
pluck  and  heroism  was  marshalled  forth,  from  the 
Spartan  boy  with  the  fox  in  his  bosom  to  the  valorous 
deeds  of  the  armies  of  Napoleon,  and  down  to  those  of 
Robert  E.  Lee. 

In  the  course  of  half  an  hour  an  escort  of  a goodly 
number  came  to  conduct  me  to  the  chapel  which  was 
filled  with  students  and  professors.  Then  my  first  im- 
promptu address  was  made.  The  effort  was  richly 
rewarded  by  securing  the  signature  of  nearly  every  stu- 
dent to  the  double  pledge  against  the  use  of  alcoholic 
stimulants  and  tobacco  in  any  form.  The  next  day 
Washington  was  left  with  a glad  heart  but  a wiser 
head.  Dwelling  on  the  trying  lesson  that  had  been 
taught  me  by  this  new  experience,  I resolved  never  to 
leave  home  again  on  another  campaign  without  being 
fortified  for  every  emergency  by  a stack  of  speeches  to 
appeal  to  every  class — from  babbling  babes  to  scheming 
politicians. 

From  the  moment  of  enlisting  in  the  ranks  of  temper- 
ance reformers,  work  was  done  with  unremitting  zeal. 
The  eternal  principles  of  righteousness  upon  which  the 
Woman’s  Christian  Temperance  Union  was  founded 
. appealed  to  my  highest  convictions  and  commanded  my 
unswerving  loyalty. 

“ In  December,  1873,  under  the  inspiration  of  a 
temperance  address  delivered  by  Dr.  Dio  Lewis,  of 
Boston,  the  women  of  Hillsboro,  Washington  Court 


162 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


House,  and  other  Ohio  towns,  were  moved  to  concerted 
action  against  the  saloon.  They  gathered  in  the  streets 
to  pray,  and  marched  two  by  two  into  saloons.  They 
besought  the  men  who  drank  to  cease  to  do  so,  and  the 
men  who  sold  to  give  up  the  business,  and  invited  all  to 
accept  Christ.  In  fifty  days  this  whirlwind  of  the 
Lord  had  swept  the  liquor  traffic  out  of  two  hundred 
and  fifty  towns  and  villages.” 

The  outcome  of  this  crusade  which  was  so  strongly 
characterized  by  the  outpouring  of  the  Holy  Ghost  was 
the  Woman's  Christian  Temperance  Union.  The  first 
local  society  of  that  great  organization  was  formed  in 
Fredonia,  N.  Y.,  on  December  15th,  1873.  In  August, 
1874,  at  Chautauqua,  N.  Y.,  a meeting  was  held  “ from 
which  the  call  for  permanent  national  organization  was 
sent  forth."  In  Cleveland,  Ohio,  November  18th  and 
20th,  1874,  the  National  Woman's  Christian  Temper- 
ance Union  was  organized.  It  was  incorporated  March 
1st,  1883,  in  Washington,  D.  C.  Its  growth  has  been 
marvelous.  “ It  has  fifty-four  auxiliary  State  and  five 
Territorial  Unions,  besides  that  of  the  District  of  Co- 
lumbia and  Hawaii,  and  is  the  largest  society  ever  com- 
posed exclusively  of  women  and  conducted  entirely  by 
them.  It  has  been  organized  in  every  State  and  Terri- 
tory of  the  nation,  and  locally  in  about  ten  thousand 
towns  and  cities. 

“ The  lines  of  its  work  are:  I.  Organization.  II. 
Preventive.  III.  Educational.  IV.  Evangelistic.  V. 
Social.  VI.  Legal. 

“ Besides  these  are:  1.  The  Affiliated  Interests.  2. 

The  Standing  Committees. 


Away  Down  South  in  Dixie  163 

“ Under  the  six  chief  heads  are  grouped  various  de- 
partments, each  one  under  the  charge  of  a National  Su- 
perintendent, as  follows: 

1.  Young  Woman’s  Work. 

2.  Work  Among  Foreign-Speaking  People. 

3.  Loyal  Temperance  Legion  Work. 

4.  Work  Among  Colored  People. 

5.  Health  and  Heredity. 

6.  Scientific  Temperance  Instruction. 

7.  Physical  Education. 

8.  Sunday  School  Work. 

9.  Temperance  Literature. 

10.  Temperance  and  Labor. 

11.  Parliamentary  Usage. 

12.  Press. 

13.  Presenting  our  Cause  to  Influential  Bodies. 

14.  Anti-Narcotics. 

15.  Evangelistic. 

16.  Unfermented  Wine. 

17.  Proportionate  and  Systematic  Giving. 

18.  Non-alcoholic  Medication. 

19.  Penal  and  Reformatory  Work. 

20.  Work  among  Railway  Employes. 

21.  Work  among  Soldiers  and  Sailors. 

22.  Work  among  Lumbermen. 

23.  Work  among  Miners. 

' 24.  Sabbath  Observance. 

25.  Department  of  Mercy. 

26.  Purity. 

27.  Rescue  Work, 


164  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


28.  Mothers’  Meetings. 

29.  Purity  in  Literature  and  Art. 

30.  Parlor  Meetings. 

31.  Flower  Mission. 

32.  State  and  County  Fairs. 

33.  Legislation. 

34.  Franchise. 

35.  Peace  and  Arbitration. 

36.  Kindergarten. 

37.  School  Savings  Banks. 

38.  Medal  Contest  Work. 

39.  Christian  Citizenship. 

40.  W.  C.  T.  U.  Institutes.” 

The  World’s  Woman’s  Christian  Union  “ is  com- 
posed of  national  unions,  and  was  formed  in  November, 
1883.  It  is  organized  in  forty  nations,  with  a total  mem- 
bership of  about  half  a million.” 

The  reformation  of  the  drunkard  and  the  banishment 
of  the  open  saloon  were  the  primary  objects  of  the  ear- 
lier endeavors  of  that  devoted  band  of  women  known  as 
the  W.  C.  T.  U. ; upon  these  rocks  they  still  stand,  but 
their  platform  has  “ widened  with  the  process  of  the 
suns  ” until  the  White  Ribbon  movement  rests  upon  a 
foundation  of  plans  and  principles  broad  and  generous 
enough  for  the  establishment  of  a church,  a state,  or  a 
nation.  Its  purpose  now  is  to  carry  the  philosophy  of 
Jesus  Christ  into  politics,  to  make  a practical  applica- 
tion of  the  laws  of  God  to  those  of  men ; to  cause  mo- 
rality to  become  the  rock-bed  of  our  national  life  and 
brotherhood  the  ozone  of  its  atmosphere;  to  advance 
the  welfare  of  women ; to  defend  the  childhood  of  the 


Away  Down  South  in  Dixie  165 

world,  and  to  protect  the  home.  The  numerous  de- 
partments of  the  Woman's  Christian  Temperance 
Union  form  a mosaic  of  many  thousand  colors.  The 
colossal  figures  worked  out  are  God  in  government; 
man  as  the  exponent  of  righteousness  in  citizenship; 
woman  in  church  and  state  as  the  daughter  of  God  and 
the  partner  of  her  brother  man.  In  the  brilliant  array 
of  glorious  possibilities  for  the  human  race  that  the 
organization  has  held  forth,  it  was  the  splendid  oppor- 
tunity for  broadening  and  illuminating  the  horizon  of 
woman  that  most  attracted  me. 

Within  the  first  year  of  my  ministry  I traveled  into 
almost  every  section  of  Mississippi  and  organized  over 
one  hundred  unions  among  the  young  women  and  the 
juveniles,  speaking  to  the  children  in  the  afternoons,  to 
mixed  audiences  at  night;  holding  business  meetings 
in  the  mornings  to  discuss  methods  of  work  best  calcu- 
lated to  forward  the  interests  of  the  societies  formed, 
and  to  appoint  superintendents  of  the  different  depart- 
ments adapted  to  start  the  union  to  move  in  easy  chan- 
nels. As  a reward  for  my  strenuous  efforts  the 
Woman's  Christian  Temperance  Union  sent  me  as  dele- 
gate-at-large from  the  State  to  the  National  Convention, 
which  met  in  Chicago  in  1889.  That  was  my  first  at- 
tendance upon  a national  convention.  The  large  num- 
ber of  delegates  present,  the  thousands  of  people  who 
thronged  to  each  session,  the  admirable  executive  power 
displayed  by  Miss  Willard  and  other  leaders,  the  thrill- 
ing debates  on  the  floor,  and  the  fine  logic  and  eloquence 
that  blazed  in  the  numerous  evening  addresses  was  all  a 
revelation  to  me.  More  practical  knowledge  was  gained 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


1 66 

of  the  Woman’s  Christian  Temperance  Union  during 
those  few  days  spent  in  Chicago,  and  more  was  learned 
of  human  nature,  than  in  all  the  personal  experience 
acquired  in  months  of  field  work. 

Nothing  but  joy  filled  my  heart  over  my  first  efforts 
for  the  young  people  of  my  native  state.  For  a number 
of  years  there  had  been  a profound  unrest  in  the  heart 
of  the  girlhood  of  the  New  South.  Faint  echoes  of  the 
secrets  of  a higher,  stronger  life,  struggling  conscious- 
ness of  the  necessity  for  more  exalted  action,  whisper- 
ings of  unborn  possibilities  suggested  aspirations  in  di- 
rections that  before  had  been  only  dimly  outlined.  The 
surging,  aching,  loving  heart  of  womanhood  began  to 
throb  and  pulse  with  heavenly  assurances  of  the  right 
to  do  and  to  dare,  striving  to  find  a channel  through 
which  it  could  voice  its  longings.  The  Young  Woman's 
Christian  Temperance  Union,  that  vast  force,  with  its 
multiplied  interests  and  varied,  ever-widening  scope  of 
thought  and  accomplishment,  that  splendid  factor  which 
had  arisen  in  our  midst  like  a giant  in  its  power,  gen- 
erating such  light  and  sweetness  over  the  already  lu- 
minous fields  of  modern  philanthropy,  supplied  the  de- 
mands of  the  hour. 

It  has  been  a benediction  to  the  girls  of  the  South 
whose  lives  it  has  touched.  A subtle,  unseen  spirit  has 
taken  hold  of  the  finest  faculties  of  their  souls  and 
stirred  to  action  every  holy  impulse,  producing  changed 
beings.  Indifference  has  been  turned  to  enthusiasm; 
selfishness  has  been  broadened  into  sympathy ; unkind- 
ness has  been  swallowed  up  into  an  abounding  charity ; 
idle  hands  have  reached  out  for  employment;  narrow 


Away  Down  South  in  Dixie  167 

minds  have  expanded  and  become  glorified  by  the  quick- 
ening, uplifting  agency  of  love  for  humanity  that  has 
poured,  like  a divine  radiance,  into  their  slumberous  lives 
and  raised  them  up  to  God.  In  the  few  years  since  the 
Southern  girls  have  donned  the  white  ribbon  and  en- 
listed in  the  ranks  of  the  Young  Woman’s  Christian 
Temperance  Union,  in  conjunction  with  the  young 
women  of  the  North,  East  and  West,  they  have  assisted 
in  campaigns  for  constitutional  amendments ; secured 
signatures  to  the  Polyglot  Petition ; supported  rest  cot- 
tages, lunch  houses  and  headquarters  for  working  girls ; 
taken  charge  of  mission  meetings  at  night ; sent  singers 
to  the  hospitals ; dispensed  substantial  charities  through 
the  medium  of  the  Flower  Mission  in  their  visits  to 
prisons,  almshouses  and  the  homes  of  the  poor  and  dis- 
tressed; distributed  literature,  studied  the  subject  of 
physical  culture  and  formed  hygiene  clubs ; introduced 
text-books  in  the  public  schools  teaching  the  effects  of 
alcohol  and  tobacco  upon  the  human  system ; established 
loan  libraries,  engaged  in  evangelistic,  kindergarten,  so- 
cial purity,  Sunday-school,  juvenile  and  press  work;  la- 
bored among  lumbermen,  sailors,  foreigners  and  the  col- 
ored population ; conducted  Demorest  Medal  contests, 
held  Gospel  Temperance  meetings  and  obtained  thous- 
ands of  signatures  to  the  pledge.  They  are  now  support- 
ing beds  for  young  women  in  the  Temperance  Hospital 
at  Chicago,  and  in  the  cities  have  established  drinking 
fountains  for  man  and  beast.  They  are  raising  funds 
to  aid  in  carrying  on  missionary  temperance  work  in 
foreign  fields ; circulating  petitions  among  the  high 
schools  and  colleges  against  the  use  of  wine  and  all  al- 


1 68 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


coholic  beverages  at  class  suppers  and  alumni  dinners ; 
conducting  parliamentary  drills,  prosecuting  topical 
studies  and  discussions;  giving  receptions  and  enter- 
tainments in  their  parlors,  besides  holding  public  meet- 
ings of  a high  order  to  create  sentiment  for  the  temper- 
ance cause,  and  educate  the  people  up  to  the  idea  of  total 
abstinence  and  prohibition  and  gain  the  co-operation  of 
young  men.  They  are  offering  prizes  of  money  to  pu- 
pils who  write  the  best  essay  on  temperance,  and  several 
are  going  out  into  different  states  as  organizers  and 
lecturers,  and  one  into  foreign  fields  as  a missionary. 

The  young  women  of  New  Orleans,  who  were  mem- 
bers of  the  Y.  W.  C.  T.  U.,  for  a long  time  supported 
a room  in  an  institution  for  the  destitute,  near  the  Char- 
ity Hospital,  where  men  and  women  could  find  a refuge, 
before  entering  the  great  world  again  to  seek  work  and 
a shelter.  The  girls  of  Richmond,  Virginia,  one  year, 
raised  $600  which  they  expended  in  sustaining  a retreat 
for  the  sick.  The  Y.  W.  C.  T.  U.  of  Asheville,  North 
Carolina,  in  co-operation  with  the  King’s  Daughters, 
established  an  admirable,  uniform  system  of  charity  by 
which  the  poor  of  the  city  were  clothed  and  fed.  The 
young  women  of  Mississippi  have  been  potent  factors 
in  bringing  temperance  sentiment  up  to  the  high-water 
mark  which  the  state  now  enjoys.  All  of  this  blessed 
service  is  simply  a faint  foregleam  of  the  noble  attain- 
ments and  beautiful  opportunities  which  the  future 
holds  for  Southern  girls.  When  they  devote  wholly 
their  latent,  unused  powers  to  rid  this  drink-cursed  Re- 
public of  its  over-shadowing  curse,  then  indeed,  will  be 
started  a wave  of  helpfulness  that  will  swell  into  a great 


Away  Down  South  in  Dixie  169 

ocean  for  the  temperance  cause  and  for  the  evangeliza- 
tion of  the  world  whose  shores  will  be  bounded  only  by 
eternity. 

The  most  hopeful  feature  of  the  Young  Woman's 
Christian  Temperance  Union  is  the  standard  that  the 
girls  have  set  up  for  the  equal  purity  of  both  sexes.  “ A 
white  life  for  two/'  is  their  war-cry.  The  day  will  soon 
go  by  when  a young  man,  indulging  in  strong  drink  and 
poisoning  himself  with  nicotine,  will  have  the  assurance 
to  ask  a girl,  pure  in  heart  and  life,  to  link  her  destiny 
with  his.  The  day  is  fast  coming  when  a young  woman 
will  place  too  high  an  estimate  upon  herself  to  accept 
the  attentions  of  a young  man  given  to  dissipated 
habits.  The  watchword  that  will  be  handed  down  the 
lines  and  rung  from  the  hill-tops  of  advancement  will 
be:  Sobriety,  or  no  husbands.  The  new  law  that  is 

being  evolved  out  of  the  old  chaos  is  that  when  the  holi- 
est of  alliances  is  consummated,  it  will  be  upon  a true 
basis. 

The  most  prominent  figures  in  this  era  of  the  history 
of  the  South  are  the  young  women ; formed  for  all  pos- 
sibility, ready  for  every  development,  capable  of  every 
achievement ; strong,  earnest,  brainy,  progressive,  com- 
prehensive ! The  light  of  the  future  is  in  their  faces, 
the  shuttles  of  destiny  are  in  their  hands,  the  sugges- 
tive tread  of  their  oncoming  feet  sounds  ominously  near. 
They  have  adopted  the  creed  of  a new  philosophy.  The 
non-entity  of  other  times  has  vanished ; in  her  stead  has 
come  the  energetic,  up-to-date,  gracious  entity  who  is 
getting  hold  of  the  springs  of  power  through  legislation; 
who  is  turning  the  locks  of  the  doors  that  have  shut 


170  A Slaveholder's  Daughter 

her  out  from  the  sanctum-sanctorum  of  ecclesiastical 
polity ; whose  sweet  voice  is  swelling  into  louder,  deeper 
tones,  and  is  singing  out  from  pulpit  and  from  platform 
the  glad  songs  of  freedom,  of  advancement,  of  human 
rights  and  privileges. 


CHAPTER  XVII 


HOW  “ DE  CAP’N  COME  THU  ” 

What’s  brave,  what’s  noble,  let’s  do  it  after  the  high  Roman 
fashion,  and  make  death  proud  to  take  us. — Shakspeare. 

The  first  invitation  that  was  given  me  to  speak  out 
of  the  borders  of  Mississippi  came  from  Mrs.  Caroline 
E.  Merrick,  President  of  the  Louisiana  Woman's  Chris- 
tian Temperance  Union,  and  afterward  one  of  the  fore- 
most leaders  of  the  suffrage  movement  in  the  South. 
She  requested  me  to  attend  the  State  W.  C.  T.  U.  Con- 
vention which  was  to  meet  in  New  Orleans,  and  to  de- 
liver an  address  on  the  evening  that  would  be  given  to 
the  Young  Woman's  Branch.  Consent  was  forwarded, 
but  considerable  misgiving  was  felt  as  to  my  capability 
to  reach  the  standard  demanded  by  a city  audience. 
After  my  speech  in  New  Orleans  was  made  an  invita- 
tion was  extended  to  lecture  and  organize  throughout 
the  state.  Very  soon  a work  in  Louisiana  was  begun 
that  has  continued,  not  only  for  successive  months,  but, 
at  intervals,  through  successive  years. 

My  experiences  in  that  state  alone  would  fill  volumes. 
A way  was  made  into  nearly  every  nook  and  cranny; 
from  the  Red  river  district  in  the  North  to  the  blue 
waters  of  Berwick  Bay  in  the  South ; from  the  cotton 

171 


172 


A Slaveholder's  Daughter 


fields  of  the  Mississippi  to  the  timber-lands  of  Lake 
Charles ; often  riding  twenty  miles  in  a lumbering  ve- 
hicle through  the  pine  woods  to  reach  an  appointment, 
or  puffing  down  streams  in  energetic  tugs  through  chill- 
ing winds  and  surprising  sand-bars ; entertained  in  an 
humble  cottage  to-day  or  in  a mansion  to-morrow ; eat- 
ing fat  bacon  and  cold  potatoes  on  a lonely  prairie,  or 
feasting  like  the  gods  on  the  Atchafalaya  and  the 
Ouitchita ; depressed  with  illness  at  Grand  Cane  or  radi- 
ant at  receptions  from  Monroe  to  the  Crescent  City. 
Ins  and  outs,  ups  and  downs,  arounds  and  abouts,  but 
God  in  all  and  above  all. 

There  is  no  country  in  the  United  States  like  South- 
ern Louisiana.  It  is  a land  of  languorous  beauty,  of 
poetry  and  romance.  From  New  Orleans  to  the  Texas 
line  there  is  an  unbroken  stretch  of  territory;  a broad, 
flat  belt  that  has  been  utilized  for  rice  and  sugar  planta- 
tions. Numerous  rivers  and  bayous  roll  peacefully 
through  it,  adding  exquisite  touches  to  the  scenery. 
Mammoth  live  oaks,  draped  in  gray  Spanish  moss,  line 
the  sides  of  the  streams,  their  branches  almost  meeting 
in  the  centre,  forming  shady  arches.  Sail  boats  with 
their  white  and  crimson  canvas,  steamers,  skiffs  and 
numerous  other  craft  float  up  and  down  the  waters; 
over  rich  oyster  beds,  under  an  Italian  sky;  through 
zephyrs  soft  wth  sunshine  and  heavy  with  the  odor 
of  orange  blossoms;  in  the  midst  of  a tropical  growth 
of  plants  and  flowers  as  rank  as  in  Central  America; 
past  ever-changing  scenes  of  dreamy  loveliness  that 
soothe  the  senses  and  stimulate  the  imagination. 

The  most  famous  of  all  the  rivers  and  bayous  are  the 


A Scene  on  the  Bayou  Teche.  See  page  172. 


How  “De  Cap'll  Come  Thu"  173 

Atchafalaya  and  the  Teche,  which  are  connected  with 
the  story  of  Evangeline.  Nearly  every  planter  claims 
the  tree  under  which  Longfellow’s  heroine  rested  in  that 
memorable  search  for  her  lover;  but  at  St.  Martinville 
the  “ Cajans  ” — who  are  the  descendants  of  that  little 
band  of  Acadians  who  left  Nova  Scotia  in  1755,  expelled 
by  the  English,  to  find  a refuge  in  this  delightful  land — 
say  they  have  the  original  and  only  Evangeline  oak. 
These  people  still  live  in  the  primitive  style  of  their 
progenitors,  and,  like  Mark  Twain’s  man  in  the  Azores, 
“ thank  God  and  St.  Peter  they  have  no  blasphemous 
desire  to  know  more  than  their  fathers.”  In  traveling 
through  this  section,  one  would  think  he  had  suddenly 
dropped  down  into  southern  France.  Dark,  foreign 
faces  are  seen  at  every  turn  and  the  jabber  of  French 
tongues  fills  the  air.  This  is  the  region  from  which 
Geo.  W.  Cable  secured  the  material  for  his  numerous 
stories.  Here  are  the  quaintest  old  houses  imaginable, 
the  first  story  of  brick  and  the  upper  of  frame  work. 
Age  and  conservatism  and  fossilized  ideas  and  customs 
seemingly  laugh  at  reforms.  The  church  of  Rome  holds 
full  sway.  The  women  keep  up  the  religion.  At  Ope- 
lousas there  is  a convent  of  colored  nuns.  In  the  hol- 
lows of  the  trees  about  the  grounds  images  and  cruci- 
fixes are  placed,  before  which  the  negro  sisters  bend  the 
knee. 

In  visiting  the  homes  of  the  leading  sugar  planters  in 
southern  Louisiana,  one  would  never  dream  that  the 
civil  war  is  over.  On  all  sides  there  are  unmistakable 
evidences  of  wealth ; elegant  residences,  horses  and  car- 
riages, coachmen,  dining-room  servants,  governesses  and 


174  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

housekeepers ; in  the  fields,  hundreds  of  negroes  work- 
ing under  an  overseer,  whom  they  call  “ overseer/’  as  in 
ante-bellum  days.  At  sunrise,  noon  and  sunset,  the 
plantation  bell  rings  and  the  laborers  walk,  or  ride  mules 
to  their  work,  so  many  in  numbers  they  look  like  bat- 
talions, particularly  so  as  each  man  and  woman  is  armed 
with  a hoe,  carried  on  the  shoulder  like  a musket. 

It  is  amazing  to  see  how  the  woman  suffrage  ques- 
tion is  growing  in  this  quiet  section.  Opinions  are  ex- 
pressed endorsing  the  movement  that  surprises  the  un- 
expectant listener.  The  women  especially  are  having 
their  eyes  opened;  particularly  those  who  have  been 
connected  with  W.  C.  T.  U.  work.  They  see  that  the 
solution  of  the  drink  problem  lies  to  a great  extent  in 
woman’s  ballot ; and,  looking  deeper,  they  find  that  the 
key  to  the  whole  situation.  Not  only  in  political  and 
philanthropic  circles  have  women  been  brought  to  real- 
ize their  restrictions  but  in  ecclesiastical  as  well. 

Morgan  City  is  a small  town  on  Berwick  Bay.  A 
Methodist  church  was  built  there  largely  through  the 
munificence  of  Capt.  Pharr,  a wealthy  sugar  planter. 
Very  soon  a Sunday-school  was  organized  and  Capt. 
Pharr  was  requested  to  act  as  superintendent.  He  re- 
fused. Other  men  were  urged  to  accept  the  position, 
but  they  likewise  refused.  As  a last  resort,  the  minister 
asked  Mrs.  Pharr,  the  wife  of  the  planter,  to  be  super- 
intendent of  the  Sunday-school.  She  accepted.  The 
Bay  lay  between  Mrs.  Pharr’s  home  and  Morgan  City, 
and  every  Sabbath  she  had  to  pay  from  $1.50  to  $2.00 
ferriage  in  crossing  to  and  fro.  There  were  a number 
of  children  in  a little  fishing  village  near,  whom  Mrs. 


How  “ De  Cap’n  Come  Thu” 


1 75 


Pharr  wanted  to  take  over  with  her  to  Sunday-school 
and  church,  as  there  were  none  near  them ; but  the  ex- 
pense of  crossing  the  Bay  was  so  great  she  found  it 
impossible  to  do  so.  Finally,  she  went  to  her  husband, 
and  said : “ Captain  Pharr,  I wish  you  would  furnish 
me  a boat  in  which  to  go  over  to  Morgan  City  and  take 
the  children  from  Berwick.”  The  Captain  refused,  say- 
ing that  it  would  cost  too  much ; besides,  there  was  no 
one  to  pull  the  boat  across  the  Bay,  and  a man  would 
have  to  be  hired  at  $1.00  a day  to  do  it,  and  it  would  be 
too  expensive  all  around.  So  Mrs.  Pharr  quietly 
bought  a boat  on  credit,  and  paid  for  it  in  one  month  by 
charging  passage  during  the  week  to  the  persons  who 
crossed  over  on  business.  Captain  Pharr  was  so  pleased 
with  his  wife's  skillful  financial  engineering  that  he 
hired  the  boatman,  and  everybody  went  over  the  Bay  to 
Sunday-school  free  of  charge. 

For  five  years,  Mrs.  Pharr  was  superintendent  of  the 
Morgan  City  Sunday-school,  and  collecting  steward  of 
the  Methodist  church.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  she 
was  elected  delegate  by  the  quarterly  conference  to  the 
district  conference,  which  was  held  in  a small  adjoining 

town.  She  went.  Bishop was  in  the  chair.  The 

report  of  the  Morgan  City  work  was  called  for.  Mrs. 
Pharr  arose  to  read  what  she  (for  she  was  the  church) 
had  done.  Before  she  had  time  to  open  her  lips,  the 
Bishop  said,  “ Madam,  it  is  not  constitutional  for  a 
woman  to  represent  any  church  at  a district  confer- 
ence.” Mrs.  Pharr  sat  down  in  silence. 

Two  more  years  rolled  away.  Mrs.  Pharr  con- 
tinued to  act  as  Sunday-school  superintendent,  and 


176  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


to  collect  the  pastors'  salaries,  as  steward  of  the  Meth- 
odist church.  The  time  for  another  district  conference 
came  around.  Mrs.  Pharr  was  again  elected  delegate 
by  the  quarterly  conference.  “ What  use  is  there  in  my 
going?”  she  protested.  “I  shall  not  be  allowed  to 
speak.”  The  presiding  elder  who  was  present  assured 
her  that  his  influence  would  be  sufficient  to  guarantee 
her  a hearing,  so  Mrs.  Pharr  went.  Again  the  report 
was  called  for  from  Morgan  City  and  again  Mrs. 
Pharr  arose  to  her  feet, — this  time  to  speak  of  the  work 
and  not  to  read  a report.  The  new  presiding  Bishop 
said : “ My  sister,  you  cannot  say  a word  in  this  confer- 
ence. You  can  write  your  report,  and  let  a brother  read 
it ; but  a woman  cannot  be  allowed  to  speak.”  Patience 
had  ceased  to  be  a virtue.  Mrs.  Pharr  replied,  in  a 
spirited  way,  “If  I,  who  have  served  the  Methodist 
church  for  seven  years  as  Sunday-school  superintendent 
and  collecting  steward,  am  not  permitted  to  report  my 
work  before  this  august  body  of  men,  no  brother  for 
me  shall  read  what  I have  done.  Bishop,  don't  you 
think  you  preachers  are  a little  inconsistent?  You  urge 
the  women  of  your  church  to  crucify  themselves  con- 
stantly in  class-meetings  by  giving  their  sacred  personal 
experiences,  and  call  on  them  to  pray  in  public  gather- 
ings ; but  after  a woman  has  done  all  the  work  she  can 
in  the  church,  she  is  not  permitted  to  tell  of  it.”  There 
was  no  reply.  The  presiding  elder  was  asked  to  report 
the  work  done  in  the  Morgan  City  church,  and  Mrs. 
Pharr  went  home  the  second  time  unheard,  and  quietly 
resumed  the  double  office  she  had  held  for  seven  years, 


How  “De  Cap’n  Come  Thu” 


177 


continuing  to  perform  the  duties  incident  without  a 
murmur,  until  her  husband  accepted  Christianity  and 
came  to  her  relief.  This  experience  formed  an  epoch  in 
her  existence  and  made  history  that  shall  stand  as  a 
light-house  for  other  women  to  steer  by,  and  to  which 
they  shall  look  back  smilingly  in  the  better  days  that 
are  coming. 

When  Capt.  Pharr  first  moved  to  St.  Mary's  parish 
he  was  very  irreligious.  He  owned  a line  of  steam- 
boats that  ran  up  and  down  the  Atchafalaya  from  New 
Iberia  to  New  Orleans.  Soon  after  his  marriage  his 
wife,  who  was  very  devout,  said  to  him : “ Sunday  traf- 
fic is  a terrible  offense  in  the  sight  of  God.  You  must 
stop  your  boats  from  running  on  the  Sabbath." 
“ What ! " he  exclaimed,  in  his  stentorian  voice  that 
made  the  very  rafters  ring,  “ stop  my  boats  when  every 
other  man's  boats  are  running  on  Sunday!  It  would 
be  sheer  madness ! It  would  ruin  me  forever ! " 
“ Capt.  Pharr,"  she  persisted,  “ I shall  never  use  a cent 
that  comes  from  the  desecration  of  the  Lord's  Day, 
either  for  myself  or  my  children.  It  would  be  preferable 
to  suffer  want  than  to  roll  in  riches  that  came  from 
such  a source.  If  you  will  sell  out  your  boats  and  go 
into  some  other  business  I will  work  to  help  you  get 
another  start." 

The  Captain  rebelled  fiercely  for  awhile,  but  finally 
concluded  that  nothing  could  withstand  a determined 
woman,  especially  when  backed  by  religious  fervor.  In 
a short  while  he  disposed  of  every  boat  and  invested  the 
money  in  a sugar  plantation.  Fortune  favored  his  new 


178  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


venture  and  wealth  poured  into  his  hands.  His  posses- 
sions became  great  and  his  home  on  Berwick  Bay  is  one 
of  the  most  magnificent  in  the  entire  South. 

The  story  of  Captain  Pharr's  conversion  is  exceed- 
ingly interesting.  He  had  a way  of  rising  very  early 
as  he  did  in  the  days  when  he  was  a penniless  boy  in 
North  Carolina  and  of  going  about  his  premises  attend- 
ing to  any  work  that  required  oversight.  Mrs.  Pharr 
held  family  prayers  with  her  three  little  sons  every 
morning  before  breakfast.  The  Captain  returned  from 
his  tour  of  inspection  sooner  than  usual  one  day.  As 
he  reached  the  door  of  the  sitting-room  his  attention 
was  arrested  by  the  sound  of  a childish  voice  in  prayer. 
His  oldest  son  was  saying,  “ Dear  Lord  Jesus,  bless  my 
papa  and  make  him  a Christian."  Then  the  second  boy 
began  his  prayer  with  “ Our  Father  who  art  in  heaven," 
and  ended : “ Dear  Lord  Jesus,  bless  my  papa  and  make 
him  a Christian."  The  third  little  fellow  repeated  the 
same  prayer  and  finished  with  the  same  request  that  his 
father  be  made  a Christian.  At  last  Mrs.  Pharr  prayed 
most  earnestly  for  the  blessing  of  God  to  rest  on  her 
family,  returning  thanks  for  all  that  had  come  to  them 
through  the  riches  of  His  grace,  and  ended  her  petition 
with,  “ O,  God,  open  the  eyes  of  my  husband  and  bring 
him  to  a full  knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ."  Captain 
Pharr  said  it  broke  his  heart.  He  made  a complete  sur- 
render, then  and  there,  to  God.  This  was  before  he  sold 
his  line  of  steamboats. 

Once,  while  in  Georgia,  I heard  an  evangelist,  who 
had  been  entertained  at  Captain  Pharr's  home,  tell  the 
story  of  the  conversion  of  a certain  steamboat  captain 


/ 


Loading  up  for  a trip  to  New  Orleans.  See  page  iyq. 


How  “De  Cap’n  Come  Thu  ” 179 

which  was  very  similar  to  the  experience  of  Captain 
Pharr,  with  the  addition  of  an  incident  illustrative  of 
its  results.  The  revivalist  said  that  the  news  spread 
among  the  hands  on  the  boats  that  “ de  Cap’n  had  come 
thu."  “ Cornin'  thu  ’’  is  an  expression  common  with 
the  negroes,  implying  that  a profession  of  religion  has 
been  made ; “ thu  ’’  being  a contraction  of  the  word 
through.  The  phrase  has  originated  from  the  custom 
that  the  colored  people  have  of  going  into  trances  and 
making  visits  through  heaven  and  hell,  hearing  “ un- 
speakable words,  which  it  is  not  lawful  for  a man  to 
utter,"  before  they  declare  themselves  fit  subjects  for 
baptism.  One  of  the  boats  was  loading  up  for  a trip  to 
New  Orleans.  Everything  was  in  a great  stir.  There 
were  loud  calls  and  impatient  answers,  perpetual  run- 
nings to  and  fro,  and  a general  mixture  of  gay  songs 
and  muttered  curses  filled  the  air.  Dinah,  the  steward- 
ess, had  finished  her  work  and  was  standing  calmly  in 
the  sun  talking  to  the  cook.  “ Aunt  Milly,"  she  asked 
with  an  awe-struck  face,  “ did  yo’  know  dat  de  Cap’n 
had  done  come  thu?"  “ Hush,  nigger!"  said  Aunt 
Milly,  “ doan’  yo’  talk  sech  fool’ry  as  dat  ter  me.  De 
jedgmen’  will  be  here  ’fore  de  Cap’n  come  thu."  “ Sho’s 
I live,  Aunt  Milly,"  exclaimed  Dinah,  “ it’s  de  Gord’s 
truf ! Hezekiah  tole  me  he  seed  de  Cap’n  come  thu  one 
day  while  de  missus  was  er  prayin’  wid  de  chilluns. 
Hezekiah’s  him  what  waits  on  de  white  folks’  table, — 
Aunt  Felicy  Ann’s  boy,  Hezekiah — him  what  lives  nex’ 
to  us  house  whar  de  hopper-grasses  am  so  powerful 
thick  in  de  spring.  He  are  de  boy."  “ Go  off,  Dinah ! 
I ain’  los’  all  my  gumption  yit ! ’Spec’  I’se  gwine  ter 


i8o 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


’blieve  dat  rascally  chile,  Hezekiah?  When  de  Cap’n 
come  thu  dis  ere  ole  ’ooman’s  gwine  straight  home  ter 
Gabrell.  Go  'way,  nigger,  Fse  gwine  whar  Fse  gwine! 
Dat’s  whar  Fse  gwine.  Take  yo’  brack  se’f  off ! ” 

At  that  moment  the  Captain  walked  out  in  full  view 
of  them  and  said  to  the  deck  hands : “ Now,  boys,  put 
up  the  smoke-stack ! We  ought  to  have  been  five  miles 
down  the  river  by  this  time/’  The  negro  men  sprang 
to  obey  orders  and  to  adjust  the  smoke-stack,  the  upper 
joint  of  which  had  just  fallen.  As  they  got  it  in  place, 
and  the  Captain  was  about  to  give  the  command  for  the 
boat  to  “ shove  off,”  down  it  came  rolling,  missing  the 
Captain’s  head  by  half  an  inch,  and  scattering  soot  fore- 
and-aft.  The  Captain  opened  his  lips  to  swear  as  he 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  doing  all  his  life  on  such  aggra- 
vating occasions ; but  his  face  grew  suddenly  very  white 
and  the  oaths  died  in  his  throat  unuttered.  With  a most 
heroic  effort  he  summoned  up  a smile  and  said : “ That 
is  all  right,  boys  ! Of  course  you  couldn’t  help  it.  Now, 
let’s  at  it  again ! ” Once  more  the  men  worked  like 
beavers  and  adjusted  the  joint.  The  bell  began  to  give 
the  signal  to  “ cut  loose,”  when  down  lumbered  the  pipe 
the  second  time,  bringing  a shower  of  cinders  and  a 
shadow  of  dismay.  The  Captain’s  face  grew  red  with 
rage,  and  his  eyes  blazed ; but  he  checked  the  volume  of 
imprecations  surging  between  his  teeth,  bit  his  lips  and 
walked  rapidly  to  the  stern  of  the  boat  and  gazed  down 
the  river.  When  he  regained  control  of  himself  he  re- 
turned, and  cried  out,  “ All  right,  boys ! We’ll  try  it 
again ! ” Once  more  the  men  tugged  and  pulled  and 
screwed  the  smoke-stack  in  place.  Surely  it  would  stay 


How  “De  Cap’n  Come  Thu”  1 8 1 

this  time.  The  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens.  The  time 
for  starting  was  already  two  hours  behind.  The  Cap- 
tain paced  up  and  down  trying  to  suppress  his  impa- 
tience. The  boat  loosed  from  its  moorings  and  began 
to  puff  down  the  Atchafalaya,  when,  lo ! with  a terrific 
thud  the  smoke-pipe  fell  the  third  time.  Without  mov- 
ing a muscle  of  his  face  the  Captain  called  out,  “ Come 
on,  boys ! that  joint's  down  again.  I’ll  help  you  put  it 
up  this  time  and  if  it  falls  any  more  I'll  order  a new  one 
as  soon  as  I get  to  New  Orleans." 

Afar  off,  and  unseen,  Dinah  and  Aunt  Milly  had  been 
watching  and  listening  with  'their  hearts  in  their 
mouths.  At  the  Captain's  last  words  Aunt  Milly 
clapped  her  hands  to  her  head  and  exclaimed,  “ 'Fore  de 
Lord,  Dinah,  de  Cap'n's  sho  come  thu ! " 

On  visiting  Captain  Pharr’s  home  after  hearing  the 
evangelist  relate  this  incident  I told  it  to  him,  and  asked 
if  it  were  not  a chapter  out  of  his  own  life.  He  was  in- 
dignant, and  exclaimed  wrathfully,  “ The  idea  of  my 
being  such  a poor  steamboat  man  as  to  allow  a smoke- 
stack to  fall  three  times ! If  that  absurdity  was  pub- 
lished to  the  world  as  connected  with  me  it  would  ruin 
my  reputation  as  a captain  and  the  reputation  of  the 
story-teller  for  veracity.  The  negroes  got  their  idea  of 
my  conversion  from  seeing  me  hoist  a steamboat  chim- 
ney one  day  and  not  lose  my  temper." 

Whether  in  adjusting  the  smoke-stack  or  hoisting  a 
chimney  it  matters  not.  One  thing  is  very  certain: 
“ The  Cap'n's  sho  come  thu." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


A SOUTHERN  PILGRIMAGE 

The  earnestness  of  life  is  the  only  passport  to  the  satisfaction 
of  life. — Theodore  Parker. 

Two  years  after  entering  the  work  of  the  Woman’s 
Christian  Temperance  Union  I was  sent  as  a delegate 
from  Mississippi  to  the  National  Convention  which  met 
in  Boston,  in  1891,  and  was  there  made  a national  or- 
ganizer and  lecturer  for  that  association.  The  city  was 
reached  in  time  to  allow  me  the  privilege  of  attending 
the  first  international  convention  ever  held  by  the  white 
ribboners.  There  were  women  from  almost  every  civ- 
ilized country  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  all  coming 
together  in  one  great  work,  all  meeting  on  one  broad 
platform,  all  having  “ one  Lord,  one  faith,  one  bap- 
tism.” 

While  in  Boston  a reception  was  given  by  the  Mas- 
sachusetts Woman  Suffrage  Association  and  the 
Woman  Suffrage  League  of  the  city  to  the  delegates  of 
the  National  W.  C.  T.  U.  Convention,  who  were  inter- 
ested in  the  living  question  of  the  political  emancipation 
of  women.  As  it  had  been  an  engrossing  faith  with  me 
for  years,  I gladly  profited  by  the  opportunity  to  become 
a part  of  such  an  historic  occasion. 

182 


A Southern  Pilgrimage  183 

After  an  hour  spent  in  social  intercourse  Lucy  Stone, 
noble  heroine,  devoted  apostle  and  dauntless  pioneer 
of  the  Equal  Rights  movement  of  this  country,  called 
the  meeting  to  order  and  requested  that  the  guests 
make  brief  speeches  regarding  their  convictions  on  the 
subject  of  Woman  Suffrage,  and  stating  the  position 
it  occupied  in  the  estimation  of  the  public  in  the  sec- 
tions where  they  lived.  Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe,  who 
appeared  before  me  for  the  first  time  since  my  early 
experience  in  New  Orleans,  welcomed  the  visitors. 
Prominent  Southern  women,  among  them  Mrs.  Lide 
Merri wether,  of  Tennessee,  and  Miss  Frances  Griffin 
of  Alabama,  expressed  themselves  as  being  entirely  in 
sympathy  with  the  cause  of  Equal  Rights.  The  North- 
ern and  Western  women  who  spoke  afterward  were  not 
more  radical.  This  meeting  did  much  to  bring  into 
closer  unity  the  leaders  in  the  two  greatest  reforms  of 
the  nineteenth  century — the  Woman's  Christian  Tem- 
perance Union  and  the  Woman  Suffrage  Association. 

After  the  adjournment  of  the  national  conven- 
tion I made  Boston  my  headquarters  for  two  weeks 
while  visits  were  paid  to  its  classic  suburbs. 

On  my  return  to  Mississippi,  I stopped  en  route  in 
Washington.  The  beautiful  capital  has  since  become 
the  scene  of  many  notable  occasions  in  my  life.  The 
most  prominent  were  the  tremendous  meeting  held  in 
Convention  hall,  which  seated  7,000  people,  in  honor 
of  the  presentation  of  the  Polyglot  Petition,  in  1895, 
to  the  President  of  the  United  States ; the  Woman's 
Council  in  the  same  year;  the  International  Conven- 
tion of  the  Christian  Endeavor,  in  1896,  and  the  Na- 


184  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


tional  Convention  of  the  American  Woman  Suffrage 
Association,  in  1898. 

During  the  three  years  following  I traveled  through 
nearly  every  Southern  state  in  the  interest  of  the 
Woman’s  Christian  Temperance  Union,  from  Delaware 
to  Texas,  speaking  in  halls,  parlors,  churches,  theatres, 
school-houses  and  in  the  open  air;  to  negroes  as  well 
as  to  the  white  population;  to  audiences  of  children, 
young  women,  and  mixed  assemblies ; in  public  and 
private  schools,  colleges  and  universities  for  both  boys 
and  girls ; before  conferences  of  ministers,  chautauquas, 
schools  of  methods,  State  Teachers’  Associations;  State 
and  National  Conventions  of  the  W.  C.  T.  U.,  the  Chris- 
tian Endeavor,  and  Woman  Suffrage  Association,  and 
have  lobbied  in  the  Mississippi  legislature  to  secure  the 
passage  of  the  Scientific  Temperance  Instruction  bill. 
The  most  interesting  of  all  these  tours  was  the  visit  to 
the  Naval  Academy  at  Annapolis,  and  to  the  home  of 
the  Southern  novelist,  Augusta  Evans  Wilson,  in  Mo- 
bile. 

Often  in  small  towns  I have  spent  the  entire  morning 
in  going  from  house  to  house  telling  the  people  of  our 
work,  and  drumming  up  a congregation  to  hear  me  at 
night.  At  other  times  I have  been  met  at  the  railway 
station  by  committees  bearing  flowers,  and  have  been 
carried  to  handsome  homes  behind  white  horses,  in  a 
carriage  decorated  with  white  ribbons,  to  be  welcomed 
later  on  by  tremendous  city  audiences.  Week  by  week 
I have  lectured  twice  a day  and  have  organized  unions 
wherever  there  was  the  faintest  possibility  of  success ; 
and  in  almost  every  case  have  been  received  with  cheer- 


A Southern  Pilgrimage  185 

ing  cordiality  and  treated  with  the  utmost  appreciation 
and  generous  hospitality.  If  there  is  strong  preju- 
dice in  the  hearts  of  the  Southern  people  against 
woman’s  public  work,  as  the  world  at  large  is  inclined 
to  believe,  the  force  of  it  has  never  been  felt  by  me.  Op- 
position either  subsided  or  was  silent  in  the  presence  of 
my  exuberant  enthusiasm.  Girls  belonging  to  the  most 
conservative  and  cultured  families  joined  the  Young 
Woman’s  Christian  Temperance  Union  and  developed 
into  admirable  philanthropists ; gentle,  timid  ladies 
from  the  seclusion  of  their  home  life  unhesitatingly 
entered  the  ranks  of  the  mother  society,  and  men,  un- 
used to  the  “ new  woman  ” movement  smiled  approval 
and  gave  their  heartiest  support. 

The  conviction  has  grown  with  my  wider  knowledge 
of  them  that  Southerners,  though  tenacious  of  social 
traditions,  are  hospitable  to  new  ideas  and  are  chival- 
rous toward  a woman  who  wishes  their  co-operation 
provided  that  she  comes  to  them  also  as  a lady.  A study 
of  state  codes  will  show  that  the  South  has  led  in  mak- 
ing women  equal  with  men  before  the  law.  Owing 
partly  to  the  simplicity  of  its  social  structure  new 
thoughts  permeate  quickly ; and  being  throughout  a re- 
ligious people  moral  questions,  such  as  the  temperance 
reform,  if  put  to  the  popular  white  Southern  vote  would 
win  by  a large  majority;  and  if  the  dangers  of  negro 
suffrage  were  settled  forever  it  is  scarcely  a matter  of 
doubt  but  that  the  men  of  the  South  would  trust  the 
women  with  the  ballot,  except  in  those  states  where 
there  is  a large  illiterate  white  vote ; and  this,  not  only 
because  ignorance  is  an  insurmountable  obstacle  to 


1 86 


A Slaveholder's  Daughter 


progress,  but  because  the  unscrupulous  politician  is  al- 
ways on  hand  bidding  for  this  vote. 

That  the  above  statement  respecting  the  attitude  of 
the  South  towards  the  temperance  question  is  not  ex- 
travagant may  be  inferred  from  the  following  facts  fur- 
nished by  chairmen  of  the  executive  committees  of  the 
Prohibition  party,  and  other  prominent  prohibition 
workers  in  the  Southern  states,  and  by  the  Secretary  of 
State  in  Mississippi,  during  the  months  of  January  and 
February,  1899:  Mississippi  has  75  counties;  of  these 
61  are  under  a state  local  option,  dramshop  law;  14 
liquor  counties  only  in  this  commonwealth.  Georgia 
has  137  counties;  113  are  under  prohibitory  law,  six  or 
seven  of  these  having  dispensaries ; — 24  liquor  counties 
in  Georgia.  The  Willingham  bill,  which  called  for  the 
prohibition  of  the  manufacture  and  sale  of  liquor 
in  Georgia,  was  before  the  legislature  of  that  state 
in  the  winter  of  1899.  It  passed  the  house  by 

93  yeas  to  65  nays,  but  was  defeated  in  the  senate 
by  a vote  of  26  to  14.  Kentucky  has  119  coun- 
ties; 73  are  under  local  option,  leaving  46  in  which 
there  are  open  saloons;  parts  of  28  of  these  counties 
are  “ dry.”  Florida  has  44  counties ; 20  are  under 
local  option ; leaving  24  “wet.”  Alabama  has  66  coun- 
ties ; 22  are  “ dry  ” and  44  have  liquor ; however,  the 
legislature,  in  February,  1899,  passed  a law  which  es- 
tablishes the  dispensary  in  15  counties,  leaving  29  under 
the  control  of  whiskey.  The  state  of  South  Carolina 
is  wholly  under  a rigid  dispensary  law.  Maryland  has 
23  counties;  about  half  this  area  is  under  local  op- 
tion. There  are  saloons  in  Tennessee  only  in  in- 


A Southern  Pilgrimage  187 

corporated  towns ; counties  without  these  are  dry. 
Many  towns  have  surrendered  their  charters  in  order 
to  annihilate  the  saloon.  There  is  also  a four- 
mile  law  which  prohibits  a dram-shop  within  that 
distance  of  any  college,  factory,  rolling-mill  or  other 
chartered  institution.  It  is  safe  to  estimate  that  much 
more  than  half  the  area  of  its  36  counties  is  under  pro- 
hibitory law.  North  Carolina  has  local  prohibition  in 
many  places  in  its  96  counties,  and  is  now  striving  for 
a rigorous  dispensary  law.  Three-fourths  of  the  state 
is  probably  free  from  the  open  saloon.  Louisiana  also 
has  much  prohibitory  territory  spotted  about  over  its 
59  parishes,  and  temperance  sentiment  is  gaining 
ground  steadily.  Of  the  220  organized  counties  in 
Texas  55  have  prohibition  by  local  option,  and  prohibi- 
tion prevails  to  such  an  extent  in  other  counties  that 
“ The  Texas  Liquor  Dealer  ” mourns  that  one-half  the 
populated  area  of  the  state  is  covered  by  prohibitory 
law.  These  figures  show  that  the  white  people  of  the 
South  are  very  well  massed  for  the  temperance  cause. 
It  is  equally  a fact  that  the  ignorant,  vicious  and  pur- 
chasable negro  vote  turns  the  scale  in  most  of  the  ter- 
ritory where  the  open  saloon  exists.  There  has  been 
a Prohibition  party  organization  in  every  Southern  state 
which  has  done  much  to  create  sentiment  and  annihilate 
the  liquor  traffic. 

Immediately  upon  entering  the  work  of  the  Woman’s 
Christian  Temperance  Union,  I affiliated  with  the  Pro- 
hibition party,  as  it  'was  the  only  political  body  in  the 
United  States  that  stood  for  the  protection  of  the  home 
against  the  saloon.  My  brothers  and  I had  stirring 


1 88 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


arguments  on  the  subject.  In  their  excitement  they 
would  walk  rapidly  up  and  down  the  long,  old  front 
gallery  at  the  plantation  home,  and  say,  “ You  are  the 
only  one  of  a vast  relationship  who  has  gone  over  to 
a new  political  faith.  If  you  and  the  women  asso- 
ciated with  you,  continue  the  agitation  that  has  begun 
you  will  eventually  break  up  the  Democratic  party.” 

One  of  the  stock  arguments  against  woman  suffrage 
is  that  it  is  unnecessary  for  women  to  vote,  as  they  are 
represented  at  the  polls  by  the  men  of  their  families. 
For  nearly  eleven  years  I have  been  the  only  party  Pro- 
hibitionist in  our  household,  and  in  all  that  time  my  fa- 
ther and  brothers  have  represented  me  at  the  ballot-box 
by  voting  a straight  Democratic  ticket. 

Mrs.  M.  M.  Snell  and  I were  appointed  by  the 
Prohibition  party  of  Mississippi  as  delegates  to  the 
memorable  National  Convention  which  met  in  Pitts- 
burgh, but,  to  our  regret,  found  it  impossible  to  attend. 

Of  course  there  were  physically  rough  places  in  my 
W.  C.  T.  U.  pilgrimages  through  the  South, — cold  bed- 
rooms and  colder  halls  and  churches  in  winter ; frightful 
heat  and  suffocating  dust  in  summer ; late  hours  of  trav- 
eling, excessive  fatigue,  frequent  and  prolonged  ill- 
nesses, often  among  strangers  and  uncomfortable 
surroundings;  but,  as  for  real  hardships,  I have  never 
known  them.  My  trials  have  been  nothing  in  compari- 
son to  those  of  many  women  who  have  given  their 
lives  for  humanity’s  uplift  in  the  cause  of  temperance 
and  prohibition.  The  leaders  of  the  Woman’s  Christian 
Temperance  Union — those  in  the  forefront  of  the  battle, 
are  among  the  bravest  of  earth.  God  only  can  know 


A Southern  Pilgrimage  189 

the  crucifixions  they  have  suffered  to  carry  the  blessed 
tidings  of  this  later  dispensation  to  the  souls  of  the 
sorrowing  and  the  heavy-laden.  From  the  beginning 
they  have  been  opposed  and  criticised,  and  laughed  at, 
but  they  have  gone  on  their  way  undaunted,  knowing 
that  they  were  fulfilling  a divine  commission  and  were 
backed  by  the  power  and  the  love  of  God. 

They  did  “ not  hope  to  be  mowers, 

And  to  gather  the  ripe,  gold  ears, 

Until  ” they  had  “ first  been  sowers, 

And  watered  the  furrows  with  tears/' 

None  but  those  who  have  endured  it  can  know  the 
sting,  the  bitterness  of  having  to  go  into  homes  where 
there  is  an  utter  lack  of  sympathy ; where  in  each  smile 
there  lurks  a sneer.  None  but  those  who  have  tried 
it  can  realize  the  hardness  of  pushing  the  work  in  places 
where  people  did  not  care  to  receive  it ; of  undertaking 
to  banish  the  wine-glass  from  the  tables  of  the  rich  and 
the  beer-mug  and  the  whiskey-flask  from  the  lips  of 
the  poor.  The  constant  strife  with  the  liquor  traffic  and 
the  political  power  back  of  it;  the  standing  for  prin- 
ciples which  the  world  regards  as  useless  or  insulting; 
the  juttings  of  radicalism — which  means  Christianity 
brought  down  into  daily  life — against  conservatism 
which  often  means  selfishness.  The  loneliness  of  spirit, 
the  bodily  fatigue,  the  unremitting  drain  on  heart  and 
brain  and  nerve  that  fill  up  the  days  of  a worker  for  the 
Woman's  Christian  Temperance  Union  only  the  ad- 
vocates of  other  great  reforms  can  rightly  measure; 
but  they  are  willing  to  undergo  it  all  if,  by  their  suffer- 


190  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

ings,  one  life  can  be  redeemed  or  one  community 
brought  into  touch  with  God. 

The  Devonshire  coast  of  England  is  very  dangerous. 
It  is  bound  by  rocks  that  mean  death  to  any  ship  that 
strikes  upon  them.  For  many  years  there  have  been 
men  employed  by  the  government  to  walk  up  and  down 
that  sea-girt  point  to  warn  passing  vessels.  They  are 
called  life-saving-men.  They  have  worn  steep  paths 
into  the  solid  rock,  which  their  faithful,  tireless  feet 
have  pressed  during  the  time  of  their  ceaseless  march- 
ings to  and  fro.  The  keen  wind  bites  them  and  the  salt 
waves  drench  them  and  many  are  swept  into  the  sea; 
but  their  places  are  supplied,  the  watch  is  kept  up,  the 
signals  are  given  and  the  ships  sail  by  into  their  harbors 
of  safety.  The  leaders  of  the  Woman’s  Christian 
Temperance  Union  are  life-saving-women;  they  walk 
up  and  down  the  rock-bound  coast  of  the  world’s  ap- 
petite and  ignorance  and  prejudice  waving  the  dan- 
ger signal  to  the  souls  that  pass  by  on  the  great  deep 
of  temptation.  They  too  have  worn  steep  paths  into 
the  stony  ground ; they  too  have  felt  the  icy  wind 
and  tasted  the  brine  of  the  salt  spray;  they  too  have 
sunk  upon  the  reefs  and  have  been  swept  into  the  sea 
of  eternity.  However  the  watch  is  kept  up;  the  flag 
waves  on  unceasingly;  restless,  winged  feet  move  un- 
wearied in  their  ministry;  storm-tossed  crafts  sail  by 
unharmed  into  the  harbor  of  peaceful  lives,  under  the 
shadow  of  the  Most  High. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

UPON  THE  HEIGHTS 

My  rendezvous  is  appointed,  it  is  certain; 

My  Lord  will  be  there  and  wait  till  I come,  on  perfect  terms; 
The  great  Camerado  the  lover  true  for  whom  I pine,  will  be 
there. — Walt  Whitman. 

My  three  older  brothers  had  left  the  plantation  and 
had  gone  into  the  wide  world  to  battle  with  life.  The 
youngest  was  at  college.  On  returning  from  one  of  my 
long  campaigns  and  finding  father  and  mother  alone 
I said  to  them,  “ My  first  duty  is  to  you.  All  thought 
of  leaving  home  during  your  life-time  will  be  relin- 
quished.,,  The  tears  sprang  quickly  to  father's  eyes, 
and  he  exclaimed,  “ My  daughter,  I would  pray  God 
daily  to  let  me  die  if  I thought  my  living  would  keep 
you  from  the  work  of  the  Woman's  Christian  Temper- 
ance Union."  Mother  said  very  quietly  but  very  posi- 
tively, “ So  would  I."  Of  course,  under  such  circum- 
stances it  was  very  easy  for  me  to  go. 

In  1893  a journey  was  made  to  Chicago  to  take  a six 
■ months'  course  in  Bible  study  and  practical  Gospel  work 
in  the  training  school  established  in  that  Arabian 
Night's  city  by  the  great  evangelist,  Dwight  L.  Moody. 
For  months  my  traveling  and  speaking  had  been  inces- 

191 


192 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


sant,  and  my  strength  had  been  so  overtaxed,  that,  soon 
after  arriving,  great  physical  exhaustion  followed. 
Finding  it  impossible  to  carry  out  the  proposed  pro- 
gram, this  institution  was  left  after  remaining  in  it  only 
one  month.  When  vitality  began  to  return  lessons  in 
voice  culture  were  taken  from  a noted  specialist.  Some 
time  after,  on  going  to  a hotel  near  the  World's  Fair, 
in  order  to  visit  that  wonderful  exposition  more  con- 
veniently, instruction  in  physical  training  was  received 
from  Baron  Posse,  a young  Swedish  nobleman,  who 
was  at  the  head  of  a successful  institution  in  Boston 
for  the  scientific  development  of  the  human  body.  He 
and  his  pretty  American  wife  and  some  of  my  Southern 
friends  were  at  the  same  hotel  with  me.  Among  the 
latter  was  Miss  Clara  G.  Baer,  of  New  Orleans.  She 
is  a native  of  Louisiana  and  is  another  striking  illustra- 
tion of  what  young  Southern  women  can  accomplish. 
Her  childhood  was  spent  in  the  South,  where,  as  the 
little  “ Dixie  ” of  the  home,  she  grew  into  a girl  of 
much  spirit  but  not  robust  constitution.  Her  school  life 
was  passed,  for  the  most  part,  in  Kentucky.  As  she 
approached  womanhood  the  need  of  a strong,  vigorous 
physical  being  was  felt  more  and  more.  The  dream 
of  her  life  was  to  be  able  to  do  her  part  in  the  world's 
work  unencumbered  by  weakness  and  days  of  pain. 
How  to  do  it  became  an  absorbing  question.  To  leave 
the  anchorage  of  home  and  start  out  alone  to  find  the 
way  was  opposed  to  every  family  custom,  and  be- 
came the  cause  of  many  a controversy  with  those 
who  loved  her.  About  this  time,  God  sent  into  her  life 
a woman  whose  own  experience  enabled  her  to  grasp 
this  young  girl's  need.  She  advised  her  to  go  to  New 


l93 


Upon  the  Heights 

England  and  take  up  the  work  which  had  so  long  lain 
near  her  heart,  saying : “ Remember,  we  cannot  afford 
to  neglect  one  opportunity  for  self-improvement.  You 
feel  the  need — leave  to  God  the  rest.”  Acting  on  this 
advice,  Miss  Baer  went  to  Boston,  where  she  soon 
met  Baron  Nils  Posse  and  his  wife.  During  her 
summer  work  in  his  classes  at  Martha's  Vineyard  they 
became  warm,  personal  friends;  and  when,  in  the  fall, 
they  invited  her  to  make  her  home  with  them,  if  she  de- 
cided to  remain  in  Boston,  it  seemed  as  though  the  way 
was  being  pointed  out  most  clearly. 

Miss  Baer’s  professional  life  may  be  said  to  have 
begun  while  still  a pupil  of  Baron  Posse;  for  he  soon 
appointed  her  to  take  charge  of  a large  gymnasium  for 
women  at  Waltham,  Massachusetts.  She  graduated 
from  the  Posse  Gymnasium  in  the  class  of  '91.  Imme- 
diately after  her  graduation  she  secured  the  position  of 
Director  of  Swedish  Gymastics  in  the  Boston  School  of 
Oratory  during  its  summer  term.  In  the  fall  of  that 
year,  she  was  made  a member  of  the  regular  faculty  but 
was  suddenly  summoned  South  by  illness  in  her  family. 
Being  unable  to  return  immediately  to  Boston,  she  ac- 
cepted offers  of  work  at  her  home  in  New  Orleans,  the 
positions  being  Director  of  the  Ladies'  Class  of  the 
Southern  Athletic  Club  and  of  the  physical  work  at 
the  Quincy  school.  She  was  also  made  a visiting 
teacher  at  Newcomb  College  and  Tulane  University. 
In  the  spring  of  '92  she  decided  to  remain  at  Newcomb 
and  was  then  elected  to  the  faculty.  Through  her  con- 
nection with  the  Woman's  Christian  Temperance 
Union,  as  State  Superintendent  of  Physical  Education, 
with  the  Louisiana  Chautauqua  and  the  Peabody  Sum- 


194 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


mer  Normals,  she  has  come  in  touch  with  the  most  pro- 
gressive element,  not  only  in  Louisiana,  but  the  entire 
South.  In  1894  she  was  instrumental  in  securing  the 
passage  of  the  law  which  makes  physical  education  a 
required  branch  in  the  public  school  curriculum,  thus 
placing  Louisiana  on  record  as  the  second  state  in  the 
Union  to  take  such  a step — Ohio  being  the  first.  Miss 
Baer's  influence  and  recognition  have  passed  into  the 
national  work  of  the  Woman's  Christian  Temperance 
Union  and  she  is  now  one  of  the  associate  superintend- 
ents of  the  department  of  physical  training.  She  in- 
vented the  new  ball  game  “ Newcomb,"  and  she  has  also 
revised  “ Basket  Ball,"  which  she  calls  “ Basquette." 
Both  of  these  games  are  copyrighted  and  published  in 
booklet  form.  Miss  Baer  has  produced  a hand  book  of 
gymnastics  for  the  school-room,  called  “ Progressive 
Lessons  in  Physical  Education,"  which  is  in  its  second 
edition,  the  first  being  published  by  the  School  Board 
of  New  Orleans  for  use  in  connection  with  her  instruc- 
tions to  the  teachers  of  that  city.  It  is  now  used  in  their 
schools.  Miss  Baer  is  one  of  the  editors  of  the  “ Posse 
Gymnasium  Journal,"  Boston,  Massachusetts,  and  for 
the  past  three  years  has  been  lecturer  on  Medical  Gym- 
nastics at  the  New  Orleans  Sanitarium  and  Touro  In- 
firmary Training  Schools  for  Nurses. 

During  the  World's  Fair  the  rare  opportunity  was 
granted  of  meeting  many  distinguished  women  from 
all  parts  of  the  earth.  The  most  famous  and  interesting 
was  Susan  B.  Anthony,  the  intrepid  advocate  of  Equal 
Rights.  She  was  filled,  as  in  her  youth,  with  the  in- 
spiration of  a mighty  purpose.  Under  its  influence  she 


i95 


Upon  the  Heights 

had  become  the  living  embodiment  of  the  repressed  but 
unconquerable  dignity  of  the  world's  womanhood, — 
calm,  self-forgetful,  self-sustained.  It  was  a joy  to 
behold  her  receiving  the  homage  of  the  public  whose 
criticism  and  opposition  had  so  persistently  followed  her 
in  the  earlier  days  but  against  which  she  had  stood  like 
a wall  of  granite  and  had  signally  overcome.  Several 
years  later,  when  I was  passing  through  Rochester, 
New  York,  Miss  Anthony  invited  me  to  spend  a nignt 
with  her  at  her  home  by  letter,  as  follows : 


omoe  or  the  President,  ROCHESTER,  N.  Y.,  1809k 


fa  £riJL, 


- /fc.  ^ "a  /T??*^*** 


i96  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


On  driving  up  to  her  dwelling,  which  was  a large 
brick  structure,  the  great  suffragist  met  me  at  the  car- 
riage and,  taking  hold  of  my  large  traveling-bag,  which 
weighed  at  least  twenty-five  pounds,  sprang  up  the 
front  steps  and  then  up  the  stairway  as  if  she  were  a 
young  Amazon  instead  of  a woman  of  seventy-eight 
years.  On  my  protesting  she  remarked : “ We  Northern 
womc'J;  are  accustomed  to  waiting  on  ourselves.  It  is 
different  with  Southerners.” 

Some  distinguished  guests  had  been  invited  to  tea. 
Miss  Anthony  was  in  an  animated  mood  and  talked  con- 
stantly and  brilliantly,  relating  incidents  from  her  ear- 
lier experiences  in  connection  with  famous  men  and 
women  who  had  long  since  passed  away.  Before  the 
visitors  departed  she  took  a lamp  in  her  hand  and  bid- 
ding us  follow,  climbed  several  flights  of  stairs,  finally 
reaching  a sky-chamber. 

This  “ lady  with  a lamp  shall  stand 
In  the  great  history  of  the  land, 

A noble  type  of  good, 

„ Heroic  womanhood  ! ” 

From  piles  of  manuscript  lying  about  or  packed  away 
securely  she  drew  forth  some  pages  of  her  biography 
that  had  just  been  completed  by  her  faithful  Boswell, 
Mrs.  Ida  H.  Harper,  but  which  had  not  yet  been  de- 
livered to  the  printing  press. 

When  the  hour  for  retiring  came  Miss  Anthony  con- 
ducted me  to  my  room  and  with  her  own  hands 
prepared  the  bed,  remarking  that  nothing  gave  her 
more  pleasure  than  keeping  house.  Hanging  on  the 
walls  of  this  chamber  were  time-faded  pictures  illustrat- 


Upon  the  Heights 


197 


in g the  horrors  of  the  slave  trade.  Miss  Anthony  was 
an  ardent  abolitionist  and  has  ceaselessly  carried  out 
and  on  her  doctrine  of  human  emancipation. 

During  my  six  months'  stay  in  Chicago,  in  1893,  a 
most  interesting  trip  was  made  to  Canada,  in  response 
to  an  invitation  to  deliver  an  address  before  the 
International  Convention  of  the  Christian  Endeavor 
Society,  which,  that  year,  met  in  Montreal. 

At  Kingston  we  boarded  the  steamer,  Bohemian , 
and  had  a charming  trip  down  the  St.  Lawerence, 
passing  the  Thousand  Islands  and  successfully  shoot- 
ing the  Lachine  Rapids. 

The  day  following  the  adjournment  of  the  con- 
vention, I went  to  Quebec,  visiting  every  point  of 
interest  in  the  quaint  old  city  and  for  many  miles 
beyond, — from  the  Plains  of  Abraham  to  the  beautiful 
Falls  of  Montmorency.  The  greater  and  more 
magnificent  Falls  of  Niagara  were  taken  in  on  my 
return  trip  to  Chicago. 

The  year  1893  was  memorable  for  me  in  many  ways. 
John  G.  Woolley,  the  celebrated  prohibition  and 
Christian  citizenship  orator,  was  met  soon  after 
coming  back  from  Canada,  and  an  invitation  was  re- 
ceived from  him  to  attend  a convention,  to  be  held  at 
Rest  Island,  Minnesota,  a short  distance  from  the 
twin  cities,  St.  Paul  and  Minneapolis.  This  lovely 
spot  lies  in  the  heart  of  the  dimpling  waters  of  Lake 
Pepin  which  is  an  expansion  of  the  upper  Mississippi. 
On  its  wooded  banks,  in  deepest  solitude,  surrounded 
by  enchanting  scenery,  Mr.  Woolley  had  established 
a retreat  for  men  cursed  with  the  appetite  for  strong 


198  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


drink.  They  came  without  money  consideration,  to 
seek  release,  through  the  grace  of  Jesus  Christ,  from 
the  chains  that  bound  them.  In  the  early  morning 
and  at  twilight  those  sin-sick  men  gathered  in  the 
bright,  east  room,  where  gospel  services  were  con- 
ducted by  one  of  the  many  ministers  attending  the 
convention.  These  were  times  of  tender  communing 
with  God,  of  the  birth  of  souls  to  the  gladness  of 
redemption,  of  confession  of  sin  and  consecration  to 
a higher  life. 

In  that  restful,  blessed  place  my  soul  began  to 
hunger  more  for  God.  I yearned  for  a closer  touch, 
a deeper  knowledge,  a truer  hand-clasp,  a safer  walk 
with  my  Redeemer  than  had  yet  been  realized.  Daily 
the  burden  was  with  me  of  the  consciousness  that  my 
religious  life  needed  a clearer  coloring,  a finer  texture, 
a more  abiding  strength.  A desire  to  see  God  “ face 
to  face,  ” to  talk  with  Him  upon  the  heights  was 
ever  present.  Hours  were  spent  in  agonizing  prayer 
and  passionate  weeping.  At  length  the  glory  of  God 
shone  upon  me  and  there  came  a full  baptism  of  the 
Holy  Ghost.  Joy  and  peace  had  followed  my  con- 
version, but  as  the  years  had  gone  by  with  their 
increasing  responsibilities  the  sweetness  of  entire  de- 
pendence upon  God  had  departed  and  the  old  deadness 
had  begun  to  creep  over  my  soul.  With  this  renewal 
of  tryst  with  my  Lord,  there  came  again  the  same 
rest  and  gladness  that  accompanied  my  first  meeting 
with  Christ;  but  it  was  deeper  and  calmer,  and 
mingled  with  a mysterious,  wonderful  outpouring  of 
the  Spirit.  Some  writer  has  said : “ It  is  well  to  take 


i99 


Upon  the  Heights 

time  to  mend  one's  friendships."  It  has  been  proven  in 
my  experience  that  it  is  necessary,  at  intervals  along 
life's  journey,  to  make  fresh  consecrations,  to  renew 
our  covenants  with  God. 


CHAPTER  XX 

ACROSS  THE  SEA 

How  can  we  tell  what  coming  people  are  aboard  the  ships 
that  be  sailing  to  us  now  from  the  unknown  seas? 

— Chas.  Dickens. 

On  returning  from  Chicago,  in  November,  1893,  my 
work  of  organization  and  lecturing  was  resumed  in  the 
Southern  states  and  carried  on  without  interruption  un- 
til May,  1895.  At  that  time  the  State  Convention  of 
the  Mississippi  Woman's  Christian  Temperance  Union 
met  in  Natchez.  Mrs.  L.  S.  Mount,  who  had  served 
so  long  and  faithfully  in  the  presidency,  resigned,  and 
the  honor  of  filling  her  place  was  conferred  upon  me. 
Within  three  weeks  after,  I received  a cablegram  from 
Miss  Willard,  who  was  then  in  England,  asking  me  to 
come  at  once  to  London.  An  International  Convention 
of  the  Woman's  Christian  Temperance  Union  was  to  be 
held  there  at  which  she  desired  me  to  be  present.  Fa- 
ther and  mother  insisted  that  the  call  be  accepted.  A 
formal  resignation  of  my  office  as  State  President  was 
made,  as  the  length  of  my  sojourn  abroad  would  be  un- 
certain. The  fact  of  having  a vice-president-at-large 
insured  that  the  machinery  of  the  state  organization 
would  move  without  break.  The  health  of  my  oldest 


200 


Across  the  Sea 


201 


brother  had  failed  two  years  before  and  he  had  returned 
to  the  old  home ; he  had  become  so  much  better  that  all 
of  us  thought  he  was  on  the  road  to  complete  recovery. 
Knowing  he  could  never  be  sufficiently  robust  for  active 
business,  it  was  planned  for  him  to  live  with  father  and 
mother. 

In  a short  time  every  preparation  for  my  departure 
was  finished.  After  a tender  farewell  and  “ God  speed  ” 
from  my  dear  ones,  I was  soon  traveling  to  New  York, 
with  a heart  full  of  thanksgiving  to  my  Heavenly 
Father  for  His  marvellous  blessings.  The  dream  of  my 
life  was  about  to  be  realized, — a trip  to  Europe  was  close 
at  hand. 

Several  days  were  spent  at  Prohibition  Park,  Staten 
Island,  attending  the  farewell  meetings  which  were  held 
in  honor  of  the  delegates  from  the  United  States  and 
Canada  to  the  World's  W.  C.  T.  U.  Convention  in  Lon- 
don. At  last  we  stood  beside  the  ship  that  was  to  carry 
us  across  the  ocean.  The  time  for  it  to  move  off  had 
almost  arrived;  but  my  trunk  had  not  come.  My  un- 
easiness grew  with  the  flying  moments ; still  it  did  not 
appear.  A dear  friend  who  stood  by  me,  noticing  my 
anxiety,  said  softly,  again  and  again,  “ You  must  learn 
to  trust  God  in  the  dark ! ” At  the  last  moment,  the 
longed-for  baggage  arrived. 

On  June  5th,  at  4 p.  m.,  the  steamer  Berlin  moved 
out  from  New  York  harbor  in  a glow  of  sunshine. 
Hundreds  of  friends  stood  on  the  pier  waving  their 
handkerchiefs  to  the  passengers,  who  leaned  over  the 
bulwarks  and  watched  them  with  yearning  eyes  until 
the  growing  distance  hid  them  from  view.  Then  fol- 


202 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


lowed  a rush  for  chairs,  a diving  into  trunks  for  suitable 
clothing  for  the  voyage,  greeting  of  state-room  com- 
panions, and  general  adjustment  to  environments. 
Later  the  dining-saloon  was  the  source  of  attraction,  to 
some  of  us  for  the  first  and  last  time.  “ Life  on  the 
ocean  wave  ” was  delightful  for  fifteen  hours  to  me. 
During  the  night  a heavy  fog  settled  upon  the  waters, 
the  fog-horn  blew  shrilly  every  few  moments,  and  the 
ship  moved  slowly.  The  fog  and  the  horn-blowing  con- 
tinued through  two  following  days.  The  captain  stayed 
at  his  post  during  all  the  weary  hours  without  a mo- 
ment's sleep,  having  his  meals  carried  up  to  him.  He 
feared  coming  in  contact  with  “ ships  that  pass  in  the 
night."  During  all  this  time  the  ocean  was  calm  and 
unruffled,  but  black  and  sullen  looking.  The  third 
morning  brought  the  sunshine,  which  continued.  Sea- 
sickness came  with  the  dawn  of  the  first  day.  The 
passengers  sat  on  deck,  wrapped  in  heavy  rugs,  too 
miserable  to  speak,  too  inert  to  move.  Deck  stewards 
moved  to  and  fro  dispensing  beef  tea  and  hard-tack,  ar- 
ranging head-rests,  and  making  the  situation  easy  for 
the  sufferers. 

The  monotony  was  broken  Sunday  morning  by  serv- 
ices held  at  ii  ^’clock,  when  a sermon  was  preached, 
and  at  night  another  meeting  was  conducted.  The  ship, 
which  had  been  making  good  time,  began  to  move 
slowly  when  the  deep  sea  was  reached  beyond  New- 
foundland, as  icebergs  float  beneath  the  water  in  this 
latitude,  and  to  strike  one  means  fatality. 

There  was  a glorious  company  on  board — lecturers, 
ministers,  writers,  singers,  and  (inglorious)  a French 


Across  the  Sea 


203 


variety  troupe.  Every  day  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  women 
observed  the  noon-tide  hour  with  prayer.  In  the  even- 
ings entertainments  were  held  in  the  dining-saloon 
when  there  would  be  music,  lectures  and  recitations. 

In  the  early  morning,  the  last  day  at  sea,  a flock  of 
sea-gulls  denoted  that  we  were  nearing  the  shores  of 
England;  soon  we  were  sailing  by  the  Scilly  Islands. 
News  of  the  arrival  of  the  Berlin  was  received  immedi- 
ately at  the  first  light-house,  telegraphed  to  South- 
ampton and  cabled  thence  to  New  York.  Land's  End 
was  later  reached,  bringing  to  remembrance  Charles 
Wesley  and  the  lines  he  wrote  while  standing  there: 

“ Lo  ! on  a narrow  neck  of  land, 

’Twixt  two  unbounded  seas  I stand.” 

Then  we  sailed  along  the  Cornish  coast  and  after 
awhile  caught  glimpses  of  hawthorn  hedges,  growing- 
grain  and  stately  dwellings.  There  were  a number  of 
little  boats  with  crimson  sails  floating  on  the  water  and 
numerous  brigs  and  steamers.  Sky  and  sea  and  earth 
were  in  fullest  harmony.  Beautiful ! beautiful ! beauti- 
ful! 

Friday  night,  June  14th,  we  anchored  in  port  at 
Southampton.  Early  next  morning  some  one  knocked 
at  my  state-room  door.  Opening  it  I was  joyously 
greeted  by  Miss  Jessie  Ackerman,  who  had  come  down 
from  London  to  meet  the  delegates  to  the  World's  W.  C. 
T.  U.  Convention,  for  which  organization  she  had  just 
completed  her  second  circuit  of  the  globe  as  “ Round- 
the-World  Missionary."  She  accompanied  me  to  the 
home  of  her  hostess  and  mine,  the  well-known  Quak- 


204 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


eress  preacher  and  author,  Hannah  Whitall  Smith, 
whose  “ Christian’s  Secret  of  a Happy  Life  ” has  had 
more  editions  and  been  printed  in  more  languages  than 
almost  any  other  American  book.  Soon  we  were  in  the 
cars,  gliding  swiftly  through  bright  fields  of  wheat  and 
crimson  poppies,  past  charming  little  villages,  clean  and 
picturesque,  to  the  great  metropolis. 

The  home  of  Hannah  Whitall  Smith  is  one  of  the 
headquarters  of  intellectual  freedom  in  London.  Every- 
thing in  her  household  is  beautifully  attuned  to  the  law 
of  grace  and  beauty ; even  the  meals  are  announced  by 
an  exquisite  strain  of  music  proceeding  from  some  mys- 
terious source.  Among  the  other  guests  in  this  hospit- 
able home  were  Mrs.  Margaret  Bottome,  President  of 
the  International  Order  of  King’s  Daughters ; Frau 
Kamer  and  Frau  Gezyski,  elegant  ladies  from  Germany, 
Miss  Alii  Trigg,  of  Finland,  and  Madame  Selmer  of 
Denmark.  There  had  never  been  such  immense  and 
enthusiastic  meetings  held  in  the  interest  of  the  temper- 
ance reform  in  Great  Britain  as  those  that  took  place  in 
London  during  the  week  that  followed  our  arrival. 

Sunday  morning,  June  16th,  1895,  I received  the  fol- 
lowing little  note  from  Miss  Willard,  which  was  sent 
by  a special  messenger.  It  was  headed  94  Ashley 
Gardens. 

“ Dear  Belle, 

“ Howdy ! So  glad  ! You  have  been  elected  the  only 
new  (spick  and  span)  round-the-world  missionary. 
You  are  to  speak  fifteen  minutes  this  p.  m.  Meet  us. 
Come  with  H.  W.  S.  to  the  platform.  Ever  thine, 

“ Sister  Frances.” 


Across  the  Sea 


205 


That  afternoon  I had  the  great  honor  and  privilege 
of  speaking  in  City  Temple,  better  known  as  the  church 
of  Dr.  Joseph  Parker,  with  Miss  Willard,  Lady  Henry 
Somerset  and  “ Mother  Stewart  ” of  Crusade  fame. 
Nearly  two-hundred  meetings  were  addressed  by  the 
White  Ribbon  speakers  in  London  that  day.  After- 
ward it  was  my  happy  lot  to  speak  on  five  occasions 
during  this  visit  in  England’s  Capital,  the  most  notable 
being  at  the  superb  international  demonstration  in  Al- 
bert hall,  which  is  said  to  be  the  largest  auditorium  in 
the  world.  An  audience  of  ten-thousand  assembled  and 
it  was  stated  that  tickets  of  admission  had  to  be  refused 
to  tens  of  thousands  more.  The  National  Convention 
of  the  British  Woman’s  Temperance  Association  was  in 
session  June  17-18.  It  was  composed  of  over  six- 
hundred  earnest,  intelligent  women  from  England, 
Scotland  and  Wales. 

On  Wednesday,  June  19th,  1895,  Miss  Willard 
opened  the  World’s  Convention  of  the  Woman’s  Chris- 
tian Temperance  Union  in  Queen’s  Hall  with  234  dele- 
gates, representing  twenty-four  nations,  and  with  mem- 
bers of  fraternal  delegates  from  kindred  societies.  A 
morning  conference  the  following  day  closed  the  busi- 
ness proceedings  of  the  third  Biennial  Convention  of 
the  best  organized  and  largest  body  of  women  on  earth. 

The  Lord  Mayor  of  London  gave  a reception  to  the 
international  delegates,  during  the  World’s  Convention 
and,  on  June  21st,  Lady  Henry  Somerset  received  at  her 
famous  country  residence,  the  Priory  at  Reigate,  Sur- 
rey. Hundreds  of  women  from  nearly  every  clime  were 
rapidly  transported  from  the  heat  and  dust  of  London 
to  the  historic  edifice  which  “ her  ladyship  ” had  just 


206  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

refitted  most  elegantly  for  the  coming  of  age  of  her 
only  son.  After  the  guests  were  cordially  greeted  by 
Lady  Henry  and  Miss  Willard,  they  spent  the  remainder 
of  the  day  in  wandering  over  the  beautiful  grounds  and 
in  enjoying  a study  of  the  antique  furnishings  of  the 
Priory  in  which  were  found  rare  paintings  and  tapestry, 
coats-of-mail  and  other  curious  relics  of  a long  line 
of  noble  ancestry. 

Every  day  since  receiving  the  appointment  of  round- 
the-world  missionary  I had  been  in  an  agony  of  unrest, 
and  waited  constantly  on  God  in  prayer  for  guidance. 
It  required  a hard  and  desperate  struggle  before  my 
duty  was  made  clear.  My  desire  was  strong  to  go,  but 
the  divine  leadings  not  to  go  were  at  last  very  definite 
and  infinitely  stronger.  My  physical  strength  had 
been  terribly  depleted  by  six  years  of  continuous  public 
work  and  travel,  and  the  realization  was  forced  upon 
me  that  not  enough  vitality  was  left  to  undertake  the 
arduous  labors  of  a missionary  in  foreign  lands.  Be- 
sides, there  was  an  abiding  consciousness  that  it  was 
not  the  will  of  my  Heavenly  Father  that  I should  go  at 
that  time.  The  invisible  but  real  hands  of  God  were 
felt  pushing  me  away  from  the  acceptance  of  this  com- 
mission. On  the  ship,  going  over,  this  message  was 
sent  me  by  the  Father,  but  its  import  was  not  under- 
stood for  many  months  after : “ Beloved,  think  it  not 
strange  concerning  the  fiery  trial  which  is  to  try  you 
as  though  some  strange  thing  happened  unto  you : but 
rejoice  inasmuch  as  ye  are  partaker  (s)  of  Christ's  suf- 
ferings ; that,  when  His  glory  shall  be  revealed,  ye  may 
be  glad  also  with  exceeding  joy.” 


Across  the  Sea 


207 


On  the  day  the  reception  was  given  at  the  Priory  I 
asked  to  be  allowed  to  appear  before  the  Executive 
Committee  of  the  World's  W.  C.  T.  U.,  which  met  in 
the  afternoon  in  an  upper  chamber.  After  explaining 
the  reason  for  my  action  a formal  resignation  was  made 
of  the  office  to  which  I had  been  elected.  Subsequent 
events  proved  the  wisdom  of  my  determination. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

ON  THE  CONTINENT 

Like  as  a plank  of  driftwood 
Tossed  on  the  watery  main 

Another  plank,  encounters,  meets,  touches,  parts  again; 

So,  tossed  and  drifting  ever 

On  life’s  unresting  sea 

Men  meet  and  greet  and  sever 

Parting  eternally. — Sanscrit,  B.  C.,  1600. 

Immediately  after  the  adjournment  of  the  World's 
great  convention  Miss  Willard  and  Lady  Henry  Somer- 
set commissioned  me  to  represent  the  Woman's  Chris- 
tian Temperance  Union  at  the  International  Congress  of 
Christian  Workers  at  Grindelwald,  Switzerland,  and  my 
departure  was  made  at  once  for  that  place  with  a party 
of  friends  from  the  United  States.  Crossing  the  Chan- 
nel, which  was  smooth  and  beautiful,  we  landed  at 
Calais  and  were  soon  passing  through  the  sunny  slopes 
of  la  belle  France.  About  dusk  we  reached  the  town 
where  Joan  of  Arc  met  her  unhappy  fate.  A wretched 
night  was  spent  with  seven  ladies  locked  up  in  a com- 
partment in  a continental  car,  which  is  such  a horror  to 
all  travelers  who  have  ever  enjoyed  the  luxury  of  a 
sleeper  on  our  great  American  lines  of  railway.  Next 
morning  we  passed  over  into  Swiss  territory.  We  be- 

208 


On  the  Continent 


209 


came  aware  at  once  that  we  had  gotten  into  finer  atmos- 
phere and  on  higher  ground.  At  noon  we  crossed  Lake 
Thun,  which  lies  like  a gem  in  the  heart  of  the  great 
mountains  that  surround  it. 

Grindelwald  is  a famous  resort  high  up  in  the  Burnese 
Alps.  The  Jungfrau  and  the  Matterhorn  keep  eternal 
watch  over  the  hamlet  and  its  kindly,  simple  people. 
It  was  here  that  Dr.  Henry  Lunn,  the  editor  of  “ The 
Review  of  the  Churches/'  had  established  a European 
Chautauqua,  the  leading  purpose  of  which  was  to  pro- 
mote church  unity.  The  town  consists  of  several  hotels, 
a few  stores,  many  bazaars  where  curios  are  sold  to 
tourists,  and  a few  charming  “ chalets."  Among  the 
last  is  that  of  Madame  D’Aubigne,  the  wife  of  the  great 
writer.  The  adjacent  hills  are  covered  with  the  quaint 
huts  of  the  peasants.  A little  Protestant  church,  antique 
in  structure,  occupies  a prominent  place,  and  adds  to  the 
generally  striking  effect.  In  it  our  meetings  were  held 
to  advance  the  temperance  cause,  and  here  I had  the 
pleasure  of  speaking. 

For  four  delightful,  never-to-be-forgotten  days  we 
stayed  in  those  rarified  regions,  growing  nearer  to  God 
with  every  breath.  At  sunrise,  parties  began  excursions 
through  the  mountains,  some  riding  on  horseback, 
others  in  carriages  or  on  railways.  We  went  to  the  very 
edge  of  glaciers,  and  looked  down  into  the  clefts  of 
seemingly  interminable  blue  ice;  climbed  to  the  tops 
of  peaks;  walked  over  beds  of  snow  and  watched 
avalanches  fall  in  a splendor  of  misty  whiteness.  The 
women  work  in  the  fields  as  regularly  as  the  men.  Often 
they  were  seen  hitched  to  carts  pulling  heavy  loads  of 


210 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


hay,  or  bearing  burdens  on  their  backs.  Once  I saw 
a man  between  two  women  drawing  a wagon. 

While  at  Grindelwald  a cordial  invitation  was  sent 
by  Lady  Henry  Somerset,  through  Miss  Willard,  to 
occupy  a room  for  as  long  as  I desired  for  rest  and  re- 
cuperation at  the  former’s  Chalet  Villors,  near  Aigle, 
not  far  from  Lausanne,  but  I decided  to  take  a tour 
with  friends  through  several  countries  of  Europe  in- 
stead of  resting. 

From  Grindelwald  we  went  to  Interlaken  and  there 
took  a boat  and  passed  up  Lake  Brienz.  Soon  we  began 
to  ascend  the  Alps,  going  over  the  Brunig  Pass.  Just 
before  we  reached  Hergiswyl,  we  gained  a view  of  Mt. 
Rigi.  Beyond,  nestling  close  to  the  ideally  beautiful 
lake  that  bears  its  name,  is  the  city  of  Lucerne.  In  this 
heavenly  place  we  tarried  all  too  short  a while,  then 
journeyed  to  Geneva,  by  whose  borders  Lake  Leman 
stretches  its  shimmering  length ; the  Rhone,  blue  and 
placid,  winds  through  its  heart ; the  Alpine  range 
reaches  to  the  very  edge  of  its  quaint  old  streets.  Mont 
Blanc  rears  its  majestic  head  in  full  view — pink  in  the 
flush  of  the  early  dawn,  pure  white  at  noontide,  or  red 
with  evening  cloud-glories.  I have  noticed  that  the 
highest  mountains  always  catch  first  the  rays  of  sun- 
light in  the  mornings  and  are  the  last  to  retain  them 
in  rosy  tints  upon  their  snow-crowned  heights  when 
the  shades  of  night  draw  near.  So  it  is  with  those  lives 
that  are  in  nearest  touch  with  God.  They  are  the  first 
to  receive  the  inspiration  of  His  great  thoughts  and  the 
last  to  reflect  them,  standing  above  the  multitude  in 


On  the  Continent 


21  i 


their  lonely  grandeur  and  translating  to  the  world  be- 
neath the  holy  will  of  the  Father  concerning  them. 

Geneva  is  a great  educational  center.  The  academy 
organized  by  Calvin,  and  which  was  afterward  honored 
1 y having  John  Knox  among  its  first  students,  has 
grown  into  a university  and  has  become  the  Mecca  of 
progresssive  Protestants  on  account  of  its  broad  spirit. 
Women  are  admitted  to  its  lectures  on  perfect  equality 
with  men.  Consequently  the  former  are  becoming  more 
numerous  every  year.  After  making  a trip  to  the  Castle 
of  Chillon,  visiting  the  home  of  Voltaire  in  the  little 
French  town  of  Ferney,  and  seeing  the  elegant  chateau 
at  Coppet  where  Madame  de  Stael  was  banished  by 
Napoleon  for  being  too  much  interested  in  politics,  and 
different  historic  points  in  Geneva — among  them  the 
house  where  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau  was  born — we 
passed  into  Italy. 

Turin  was  the  first  place  at  which  we  stopped,  then 
Pisa.  Despite  the  subjection  that  is  taught  women  by 
the  Catholic  church  in  Europe  it  is  pleasant  to  note 
signs  of  the  breaking  up  of  old  forms  of  social  crystalli- 
zation. In  Pisa  there  is  a normal  school  conducted  on 
a co-educational  basis ; and  I was  told  that  a number 
of  women  were  there  studying  medicine.  This  was 
more  interesting  to  me  than  the  leaning  tower  and  the 
swinging  lamp  from  which  Galileo  gained  his  inspira- 
tion. 

Before  Genoa  was  reached,  we  approached  the  Apen- 
nines and  for  a long  distance  sped  through  their 
magnificent  heights  and  smiling  valleys.  At  the  city 


212  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

whose  name  is  evermore  linked  with  that  of  Columbus, 
begins  the  wonderful  road  along  the  Riviera.  We 
gained  here  our  first  sight  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  for 
many  miles  skirted  close  to  its  rock-bound  coast. 

En  route  to  Rome,  in  our  compartment,  were  two 
ladies  of  our  company  besides  myself,  an  old  Italian 
woman  and  two  foreign  men.  We  had  to  make  our- 
selves as  comfortable  as  circumstances  allowed,  which 
meant  that  some  slept  sitting  upright,  some  with  head 
on  seat  and  feet  on  valise,  while  others  watched  and 
slumbered  not.  At  twelve  the  two  men  drew  out  their 
bottles  and  drank  heavily,  then  lighted  their  cigars  and 
smoked.  This  interesting  performance  was  repeated  at 
short  intervals  until  the  day  dawned.  There  was  a streak 
of  sunlight  through  the  reeking  air,  short  staccato 
snorts  from  my  companions  in  distress,  a rubbing  of 
eyes,  a stretching  of  muscles,  an  exchange  of  miserable 
glances,  an  outlook  through  the  open  window  to  the 
shining  waters  of  the  Mediterranean,  soon  a dash  across 
the  yellow  Tiber,  and  we  were  in  the  Eternal  city. 
Rome,  like  heaven,  is  a place  to  be  striven  for,  to  dream 
over  and  hunger  for;  but  it  is  better  to  leave  to  the 
imagination  than  to  attempt  to  put  into  words  the  meas- 
ure of  its  treasures,  old  and  new,  its  historic  suggestion 
and  the  power  of  the  awful  and  majestic  march  of  the 
ages  which  echoes  from  its  sacred  hills. 

From  Rome  we  went  to  Naples,  then  to  Pompeii. 
Climbing  to  the  top  of  the  highest  point  of  observation 
upon  the  walls  of  the  once  lava-buried  city,  we  obtained 
a fine  view  of  the  surrounding  landscape.  Before  us  lay 
the  Bay  of  Naples,  placid  in  the  July  sun;  beyond  it  the 


On  the  Continent 


213 


Apennines ; on  the  further  shore  the  towns  of  Castella- 
mare,  Herculaneum,  and  beautiful  Sorrento,  the  birth- 
place of  Tasso;  to  the  right  Naples;  in  the  rear,  Vesu- 
vius, sending  out  its  volume  of  never-ending  smoke. 

Venice  answered  in  full  all  the  dreams  that  I ever  had 
of  its  beauties.  On  leaving  there  we  traveled  to  Flor- 
ence, where,  unfortunately,  only  a short  time  could  be 
spent  in  the  art  galleries,  studying  the  great  works  of 
the  old  masters  who  have  rendered  the  city  famous,  and 
in  threading  the  thoroughfares  made  historic  by  illus- 
trious men  and  women. 

In  Milan,  the  white  marble  Cathedral  was,  of  course, 
the  centre  of  our  desires,  after  that  the  refectory  of  the 
Dominican  Convent,  near  the  church  of  Sta.  Maria  della 
Grazia,  where  is  found  all  that  remains  of  “ The  Last 
Supper,”  Leonardi  da  Vinci's  masterpiece,  a fresco, 
which  is  almost  obliterated. 

The  innate  tact  and  grace  of  Italian  people  is  delight- 
ful. One  day  our  party  of  W.  C.  T.  U.  women  were 
crowded  in  a railway  compartment.  The  only  men 
present  were  our  conductor,  a cultured  young  English- 
man, the  son  of  the  Bishop  of  Winchester,  and  an 
elegant  looking  young  Italian  gentleman  of  the  higher 
class.  The  latter  could  not  speak  a word  of  English, 
and  was  an  entire  stranger  to  the  rest  of  us.  As  we 
entered  he  was  smoking,  ignoring  the  fact  that  the  car- 
riage was  not  intended  for  that  purpose.  The  ladies 
gave  evidence  of  disapprobation;  but  the  unconscious 
sinner  smoked  on  ignorant  of  the  misery  he  was  creat- 
ing. Finally  our  escort  leaned  toward  him  and  said  in 
the  native  tongue:  “ Will  you  please  discard  your 


214  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

cigarette?  The  ladies  object  to  it.”  The  Italian  looked 
around  perfectly  amazed.  I presume  it  was  the  first 
time  in  his  whole  life  that  he  had  been  made  aware  of 
the  fact  that  women  objected  to  smoking,  as  so  many 
indulge  in  the  habit  in  Europe.  When  the  Italian  saw 
the  expression  on  the  faces  of  his  fellow-passengers  he 
colored  to  the  roots,  of  his  black,  curly  hair,  and  im- 
mediately threw  away  the  offending  cigarette ; anxious 
to  atone  for  the  discomfort  he  had  unwittingly  caused, 
he  sprang  to  his  feet,  and,  opening  a large  wicker 
basket  in  the  rack  above  him,  took  therefrom  a beautiful 
lemon  with  a long  branch  and  leaves  attached,  and,  with 
a graceful  bow,  handed  it  to  the  lady  opposite. 

After  a day  and  night's  continuous  travel  from  Milan, 
we  arrived  in  Paris.  Gay,  charming  Paris ! the  loveliest 
and  wickedest  city  on  earth.  There  is  an  irresistible 
fascination  in  the  sans  souci  of  these  impulsive,  happy- 
hearted  human  beings.  There  is  joy  and  lightness  in 
the  very  air,  that  takes  hold  of  one  unconsciously ; but 
when  we  think  of  the  immorality  and  atheism  under  it 
all,  we  are  conscious  of  a pain  and  a pathos  unspeak- 
able. If  there  is  a place  in  the  world  against  which 
all  the  artillery  of  Christianity  should  be  leveled,  that 
place  is  Paris.  Now  there  are  only  feeble  rush-lights 
in  the  midnight  darkness.  One-hundred  and  fifty  Mc- 
Call Missions  are  scattered  over  France;  there  are 
thirty  in  Paris.  One  night,  after  walking  down  the 
brilliantly  lighted  boulevards  with  a party  of  friends, 
we  strolled  into  one  of  these  quiet  little  rooms.  On  the 
wall  opposite  us  was  written,  in  French,  “ I am  the 
Resurrection  and  the  Life."  The  minister  who  con- 


On  the  Continent 


21 5 


ducted  the  evening  service  read  passages  from  the  Bible 
and  announced  the  hymns,  none  of  which  we  under- 
stood. When  we  had  almost  decided  in  despair  to  retire, 
the  organ  pealed  forth  the  familiar  strain,  “ Whosoever 
Will  May  Come,,,  and  we  lifted  our  American  voices  in 
praise,  with  their  sweet  French  tones.  Finally,  we 
joined  in  singing  together  that  dear  old  consecration 
hymn,  “ I am  Thine,  O,  Lord,”  and  left  with  thanksgiv- 
ing to  God  that  there  was  a place,  however  small,  in 
the  great  city,  into  which  those  who  love  Him  and 
serve  Him  can  go  apart  for  awhile  and  rest. 

Miss  de  Broen,  a young  woman  from  Holland  of 
wealth  and  leisure,  while  traveling  for  pleasure  on  the 
continent  in  1871,  arrived  in  Paris  during  the  terrible 
days  of  the  last  Commune.  She  was  so  impressed  by 
the  horrors  which  she  witnessed  that  she  decided  to  re~ 
main  and  help  to  alleviate  the  sufferings  of  the  people  in 
the  Belleville  district,  the  scene  of  the  bloody  butchery. 
There  was  begun  at  once  that  beautiful  mission  work 
that  has  made  her  name  blessed  in  the  hearts  of  thou- 
sands of  human  beings.  For  nearly  twenty-five  years 
she  has  stood  an  unwavering  light  in  the  darkness  of 
atheistic  gloom,  carrying  forward  her  vast  undertaking 
with  a trust  that  has  never  once  abated.  Terrible  sick- 
ness followed  in  the  wake  of  the  siege.  Miss  de  Broen 
established  a medical  hospital,  where  the  sufferers  could 
be  administered  to  free  of  cost.  After  the  Revolution 
ended  it  was  continued  for  the  poor  in  Belleville;  but 
through  all  the  years  it  had  been  resorted  to  by  many 
from  the  heart  of  Paris,  the  average  annual  attendance 
being  as  great  as  30,000.  In  supplying  the  bodily  wants 


2l6 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


of  these  needy  people,  no  opportunity  had  been  neglected 
of  bringing  their  sin-sick  souls  to  the  personal  knowl- 
edge of  the  Divine  Physician,  who  came  to  “ bear  our 
infirmities.”  Out  of  this  enterprise  there  had  grown 
a training  school  for  girls,  sewing  classes,  day  and  night 
schools,  mothers'  meetings,  a gospel  mission  hall,  where 
regular  Sunday  services  were  held,  beside  Bible  classes, 
prayer  meetings  and  temperance  meetings.  A large 
proportion  of  Miss  de  Broen’s  time  was  spent  in  visit- 
ing the  poor  and  sick,  and  distributing  tracts  and  Bibles. 
I shall  never  forget  the  pathos  in  the  voices  of  the  men 
and  the  women,  who  stretched  out  their  hands  in  an 
imploring  way  to  her,  saying,  “ If  you  please,  madame,” 
for  the  gospel  leaflets  she  carried  as  we  walked  through 
the  streets  of  Belleville.  One  day  I dined  with  Miss 
de  Broen  and  afterward  spoke  at  her  mission.  She 
urged  me  to  stay  and  lecture  to  the  English-speaking 
people  of  Paris,  offering  me  a home  and  a salary,  but 
it  was  impossible  to  accept  for  the  same  reasons  that 
prevented  me  from  going  around  the  world  as  a W.  C. 
T.  U.  missionary.  It  was  a wonderful  opening  fraught 
with  gracious  possibilities  for  the  spread  of  the  blessed 
doctrine  of  total  abstinence  and  the  gospel  of  our  Lord. 
I pray  God  that  some  strong  young  woman  who  reads 
these  words  may  feel  impelled  to  go;  if  not  to  Paris,  to 
some  other  field  of  mission  work  for  the  Master. 

On  my  return  from  Paris  several  days  were  spent 
in  London.  After  going  out  to  Windsor  Castle, 
Hampton  Court  and  many  other  points  of  interest,  I 
bade  good-bye  to  the  friends  who  had  been  with  me 
on  the  continent  and  began  a journey  alone  through 


On  the  Continent 


217 


Ireland.  Happy  hours  were  spent  in  its  leading  cities, 
in  riding  over  its  picturesque  mountains  and  in 
skimming  over  the  surface  of  the  beautiful  lakes  of 
Killarney. 

Leaving  Ireland  I went  directly  to  Scotland.  Edin- 
burgh, the  historic,  the  romantic,  was  the  goal  of  my 
heart's  desire.  At  sunset  that  glorious  old  city  was 
reached,  with  its  ancient  castle,  Holyrood  Palace,  and 
Princes  street,  incomparable  for  beauty — bathed  in 
light — its  crags  and  rocks,  its  hills  and  stretch  of  sea. 

Of  all  the  fascinating  spots  around  Edinburgh,  the 
most  charming  is  the  home  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  A 
short  ride  on  the  cars  brings  us  to  Melrose,  where  we 
take  an  omnibus  for  a four-mile  jaunt  through  the 
country  of  Abbottsford,  the  baronial  castle  that  was 
the  pride  of  the  heart  of  “ the  grand  old  man  ” of 
Scotland. 

Melrose  Abbey  was  next  explored  and  a trip  made 
through  the  Trosachs,  the  region  of  the  “ Lady  of 
the  Lake,"  the  most  captivating  section  of  all  Scotland. 
Long  coach  drives  were  taken  through  the  wildest, 
grandest  parts  of  the  Highlands,  and  two  boat  rides; 
one  across  Loch  Katrine,  the  other  down  Loch 
Lomond. 


CHAPTER  XXII 


THE  SORROW. 

Behold,  the  Lord  our  God  hath  shewed  us  His  glory  and 
His  greatness,  and  we  have  heard  His  voice  out  of  the  midst 
of  the  fire ; we  have  seen  this  day  that  God  doth  talk  with  man 
and  he  liveth. — Deut.  5 : 24. 

The  last  week  in  August  I sailed  from  Scotland  for 
the  United  States,  and  after  an  uneventful  voyage  ar- 
rived in  New  York,  spending  some  time  there  and  on 
Staten  Island,  at  the  latter  place  addressing  a public 
meeting. 

It  was  too  early  in  the  season  to  return  with  safety  to 
the  South,  but  a strong  presentiment  of  coming  sorrow 
so  impressed  itself  upon  me  that  it  was  impossible  to 
shake  it  off,  or  to  attempt  to  do  any  work,  or  to  enter- 
tain any  thought  but  that  of  going  home.  For  the  first 
time  in  my  life  a foreboding  was  yielded  to  and  the  last 
week  of  September  found  me  on  the  plantation  at  Ver- 
non. I was  shocked  to  find  my  brother,  whom  I had 
left  with  every  assurance  of  returning  health,  fright- 
fully altered— stamped  with  the  seal  of  death.  Neither 
he,  nor  any  one,  seemed  to  realize  the  hopelessness  of 
his  condition,  but  a physician  was  in  constant  attend- 
ance. 

Although  scarcely  able  to  stand,  he  wandered  about 
218 


The  Sorrow 


219 


the  house  restlessly,  silent,  his  attenuated  figure  the 
shadow  of  his  former  fine  physique,  his  face  sad  and  un- 
smiling with  a touch  of  the  awfulness  of  eternity  upon 
it.  The  next  Sabbath  he  was  unable  to  arise.  As  I 
waited  by  his  bedside  he  looked  at  me  calmly,  his  blue 
eyes  full  of  the  old  love  of  his  boyhood  days,  and 
actuated  by  the  same  unselfish  spirit  that  had  character- 
ized his  life,  he  said  apologetically,  “ I am  a little  too 
weak  to  get  up  this  morning,  sister.”  Several  days  of 
great  suffering  followed.  At  last  the  knowledge  that 
death  was  close  at  hand  came  to  him.  He  asked  mother 
to  pray.  “ If  life  is  given  me  I will  show  the  world 
what  it  means  to  be  a Christian  man,”  he  said.  Oh ! 
the  heart-break  of  that  hour ! In  the  holy  watches  of 
those  days  and  nights  surely  he  had  an  understanding 
with  God,  Who  had  said  so  lovingly  through  His  Son, 
“ Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  are  weary  and  heavy  laden 
and  I will  give  you  rest.” 

In  one  week’s  time,  my  brother  died.  There  are 
moments  when  one  cannot  weep,  nor  speak,  nor  pray, — 
only  be  quiet  before  God.  This  was  my  first  great  sor- 
row. My  faculties  were  dazed  in  the  presence  of  death’s 
awful  mystery.  How  strange  every  one  seemed ! How 
weird  the  trees,  the  flowers,  the  sunlight ! I was  alone 
with  our  dead.  He  would  soon  be  taken  away  from  the 
old  home  to  come  back  no  more  forever.  Forever?  O, 
God ! why  should  we  be  put  in  this  sorrowing,  unsatis- 
fying world  to  struggle  and  to  suffer — to  grope,  and 
never  to  know?  All  the  fought-for  peace  of  years  fled 
from  me;  all  the  trustfulness,  the  acceptance  slipped 
away  in  the  darkness  and  horror  of  those  hours. 


220 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


Twice  in  my  life  there  has  been  felt  the  personal  pres- 
ence of  God.  Into  that  chamber  of  silence,  shrouded 
in  the  desolation  that  only  death  can  bring,  He  came  to 
me;  softly,  swiftly,  clearly  the  footsteps  of  my  Lord 
were  heard;  suddenly  the  room  was  filled  with  His 
glory.  Distinctly  as  if  a human  voice  had  spoken  there 
fell  upon  my  awakened  sense  the  blessed  words,  “ Peace, 
be  still ! " A holy  calm  descended  upon  me,  a strange, 
sweet  gladness.  I went  out  rejoicing  and  praising  God. 

After  awhile  our  beloved  was  taken  away.  The 
mourning  little  company  filed  its  way  across  the  autumn 
fields,  aglow  with  October  sunshine,  to  our  old  family 
burial-ground,  near  by,  in  the  heart  of  the  deep,  still 
woods.  The  long  shadows  flickered  across  the  open 
grave,  and  the  fading  light  fell  in  golden  glints  about 
it.  My  tears  had  all  been  shed,  a divine,  inexplicable 
joy  possessed  my  being.  I wanted  to  sing,  to  speak ! 
My  soul  was  on  wings,  and  thrilled  with  the  triumphant 
refrain,  “ I know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth,"  while  the 
divine  undertone  of  Christ's  assurance  echoed  back,  “ I 
am  the  resurrection,  and  the  life : Whosoever  believeth 
in  Me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live."  “ Who- 
soever ! " He  believed.  Thank  God ! 

Two  days  after  my  brother's  burial  I was  lying  in 
the  shadow  of  death  with  typhoid  fever.  The  doctor 
looked  at  me  with  sad  eyes  full  of  apprehension.  “ You 
are  very  ill,"  he  said,  “ but  you  will  not  die."  “ O,  that 
is  quite  certain,"  was  my  instant  reply.  “ My  life  work 
is  not  yet  finished ; the  call  will  not  come  for  me  to  go 
until  my  destiny  is  completed." 

The  fiery  furnace  of  sickness  and  sorrow  left  me 


John  Wesley’s  Oak,  Frederica,  St.  Simons,  Georgia.  See  page  221. 


The  Sorrow 


221 


stronger  in  mind  and  more  in  love  with  God  than  in  all 
my  life  before.  In  the  days  of  convalescence  my  studies 
were  resumed  with  eager  vehemence.  As  soon  as  phys- 
ical strength  returned,  my  public  work  was  renewed 
and  continued  from  March  until  November.  I was 
radiantly  happy,  and  my,  efforts  were  crowned  with 
unusual  success.  Numbers  of  new  friends  came  into  my 
life,  splendid  audiences  greeted  me  and  many  adherents 
were  gained  for  the  cause  of  righteousness  to  which  my 
time  and  enthusiasm  were  devoted. 

At  the  close  of  the  spring  campaign  in  Mississippi  a 
tour  was  made  through  Georgia  where  the  privilege 
was  granted  of  standing  on  ground  rendered  sacred  by 
John  Wesley  in  the  days  of  his  early  ministry  in  Amer- 
ica. In  going  to  Charlotte,  North  Carolina,  a visit  was 
paid  to  the  gentle,  sweet-faced  widow  of  Stonewall 
Jackson.  She  had  been  a member  of  the  white-ribbon 
army  for  years,  and  spoke  with  pride  of  her  distin- 
guished husband's  total  abstinence  principles,  quoting 
his  famous  remark,  “ I fear  a glass  of  liquor  more  than 
the  bullets  of  the  enemy.,, 

Soon  after  leaving  North  Carolina,  the  historic  cap- 
ital of  the  Southern  Confederacy  was  seen  for  the  first 
time.  My  hostess  carried  me  to  every  place  of  interest 
in  the  charming  old  city, — the  house  that  Jefferson 
Davis  occupied  while  president  of  the  seceded  states, 
. now  used  as  a Confederate  museum ; the  residence  of 
Robt.  E.  Lee,  owned  at  present  by  the  Virginia  Histor- 
ical Society ; St.  Paul's  Episcopal  church,  where  these 
two  famous  leaders  worshipped  and  whose  pews,  at  the 
time,  were  draped  with  Confederate  colors  and  dec- 


222 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


orated  with  laurel  wreaths ; St.  John’s  chapel,  built  in 
1771,  where  Patrick  Henry  made  his  immortal  demand; 
the  stone  house  in  which  Washington  and  Lafayette 
held  their  conference ; the  elegant  monuments  erected  in 
honor  of  the  soldiers  and  sailors,  General  Lee  and  other 
heroes,  and  Holywood  cemetery,  where  Monroe,  Tyler, 
J.  E.  B.  Stuart  and  Jefferson  Davis  lie  buried.  At  this 
beautiful  place  of  interment  a striking  memorial  has 
been  erected  by  the  Ladies’  Association  in  memory  of 
the  Confederate  dead.  It  consists  of  a vast  pile  of 
stones  laid  in  the  form  of  an  obelisk.  At  its  completion 
it  was  found  to  be  very  difficult  to  put  the  cap-stone 
in  place, — many  trying  and  all  failing.  Finally  it  was 
announced  by  the  state  that  freedom  would  be  granted 
to  any  convict  in  the  penitentiary  who  could  adjust  it. 
The  opportunity  was  too  precious  to  be  lost  and  one  of 
these  unfortunates  gained  the  double  triumph. 

The  Ex-Confederates  were  having  a great  reunion 
during  my  visit  to  Richmond.  The  city  was  filled  with 
men  dressed  in  gray  uniforms,  tattered  and  time-stained. 
Among  these  were  some  old  negroes  who  had  served 
throughout  the  civil  war  with  their  masters.  Nothing 
more  pathetic  could  be  imagined  than  the  happiness 
they  evinced  moving  among  the  veterans  and  wearing 
the  badges  of  the  regiments  in  which  they  served  as 
proudly  as  on  the  day  in  the  6o’s  when  they  marched 
away  to  the  battle  fields. 

Day  and  night  the  crowds  filled  the  vast  auditorium 
of  the  Exposition  building  which  was  decorated  with 
war  pictures  and  battle  flags.  There  were  glowing 


The  Sorrow 


223 


speeches  by  prominent  Southern  orators,  interspersed 
with  martial  music.  The  old  songs  were  sung  that 
had  brightened  many  a camp-fire ; the  “ rebel  yell  ” was 
given, — at  first  short  and  sharp,  but  finally  swelling  into 
a deafening  roar,  the  enthusiasm  increasing  with  every 
demonstration. 

There  was  no  exhibition  of  bitterness  on  any  occasion. 
The  address  of  the  Northern  Soldier  received  an 
ovation.  There  was  deathless  loyalty  in  every  South- 
erners’ heart  to  the  spirit  under  which  the  war 
had  been  fought  but  with  it  was  an  unquestioning 
allegiance  to  the  Union.  The  stars  and  stripes  were 
dearer  to  them,  even  in  that  hour  of  tender  reminis- 
cence, than  their  own  conquered  banners.  I wept 
with  the  old  warriors  in  memory  of  their  “ Lost  Cause ; ” 
but  there  was  profound  thankfulness  in  my  heart  that 
the  Civil  War  ended  as  it  did;  that  fraternity  was  re- 
stored ; that  no  longer  was  there  a North  and  a 
South  but  an  undivided  country;  a united  purpose, 
under  one  flag,  to  work  out  our  sublime  destiny — the 
development  for  the  world  of  the  principles  of  self- 
government. 

Since  then,  the  war  between  the  United  States  and 
Spain  has  been  fought.  The  North  and  the  South 
have  stood  shoulder  to  shoulder  in  the  movement  at  El 
Caney,  in  the  furious  charge  up  the  hill  of  San  Juan, 
in  the  sinking  of  the  Spanish  fleet  at  Santiago  and  in 
the  immortal  victory  at  Manila.  Heroes  of  both 
sections  perished  together  on  the  Maine,  and  lie  buried 
side  by  side  in  the  trenches  of  Cuba  and  the  Philip- 


224  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

pines.  The  forces  of  fraternity  have  culminated  in  the 
Spanish- American  war ; but  in  all  the  years  since  Lee 
surrendered  his  sword  to  Grant  at  Appomattox 
numerous  agencies  have  been  at  work  to  effect  the 
solidity  of  the  American  people  and  to  unify  the  great 
Republic. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


THE  FAR  WEST  AND  ALASKA 

And  who  commanded  (and  the  silence  came), 

Here  let  the  billows  stiffen  and  have  rest  ! 

God  ! let  the  torrents,  like  a shout  of  nations, 

Answer,  and  let  the  ice-plains  echo,  God  ! 

—Coleridge. 

After  visiting  the  University  of  Virginia  and  the 
famous  home  of  Thomas  Jefferson,  “ Monticello,”  at 
Charlottesville,  Virginia,  the  remainder  of  the  summer 
was  spent  at  Mountain  Lake  Park,  Maryland,  Old 
Orchard  Beach,  Maine,  where  W.  C.  T.  U.  work  was 
done,  and  on  the  coast  of  Narragansett  Bay,  near  New- 
port. Lecture  engagements  were  filled  in  the  fall  of 
1896  in  the  state  of  New  York,  where  pleasant  visits 
were  made  to  the  United  States  Military  Academy,  at 
West  Point,  Vassar  College,  at  Poughkeepsie,  and  many 
delightful  trips  up  and  down  the  Hudson  were  enjoyed. 
Addresses  were  made  in  New  Jersey  and  in  all  the  New 
England  states  except  Vermont.  Everywhere  I was 
received  with  unlimited  cordiality,  and  was  the  subject 
of  as  much  generous  hospitality  and  loving  kindness  as 
was  ever  lavished  upon  me  in  the  South. 

The  following  spring  a lecturing  and  organizing  tour 
was  begun  in  March,  that  continued  until  the  middle 
of  December,  through  the  far  West.  Never  until  this 

225 


226  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


journey  had  I realized  the  immensity  of  the  distances 
in  this  great  country  of  ours.  With  the  dawn  of  the 
morning  following  my  leave  taking  from  Forth  Worth, 
Texas,  I found  myself  skirting  the  great  American 
desert  traveling  up  the  Pecos  Valley  in  New  Mexico. 
The  country  to  El  Paso  is  an  unchangeable,  sandy  val- 
ley with  mountain  ranges  on  either  side,  bare  and  dusty 
looking.  Not  a human  habitation  is  in  sight,  except 
wigwams  huddled  on  the  glowing  desert  at  frightful 
distances  from  each  settlement.  These  were  occupied 
by  Indians.  Here,  as  elsewhere  in  this  region,  nothing 
is  seen  growing  except  the  mesquite  bushes,  Spanish 
daggers,  and  numerous  varieties  of  cactus. 

As  soon  as  I got  to  El  Paso  I entered  a street  car 
to  pay  a visit  to  the  old  Mexican  town,  Juarez,  which 
is  just  across  the  Rio  Grande,  with  the  purpose  of  see- 
ing the  ancient  church  Guadaloupe,  which  dates  from 
1549.  It  was  my  plan  to  make  a missionary  temper- 
ance tour  through  Mexico  on  my  return  in  December, 
but  afterward  I concluded  to  defer  the  journey  until 
more  time  was  at  my  command. 

On  leaving  El  Paso  the  train  swept  through  the  heart 
of  the  desert  with  its  blinding  glories,  mammoth  cacti 
with  crimson  blossoms,  a few  lonely  birds  beating  their 
wings  in  the  air,  and  the  inevitable  line  of  mountains 
about  us.  It  seemed  like  a foretaste  of  heaven  to  glide 
in  from  the  arid  plains  of  Arizona  to  the  cool,  green 
regions  of  California,  with  its  fields  of  barley  and  wheat, 
orchards  of  various  fruits,  and  mountains  softened  with 
grass  and  shrubs — all  bathed  in  evening  light  with  the 


The  Far  West  and  Alaska  227 

peculiar  glow  in  it  that  rests  on  the  hills  and  valleys  of 
Italy. 

Soon  after  my  arrival  in  San  Francisco,  accompanied 
by  an  ensign  from  the  Salvation  Army  and  a Christian 
lady  friend,  I went  down  one  night  into  the  depths  of 
Chinatown.  This  is  a section  of  San  Francisco  that  is 
inhabited  wholly  by  the  Chinese,  who,  true  to  their  in- 
stincts, have  packed  themselves  into  every  available 
niche.  Within  ten  blocks  20,000  of  these  Mongolians 
are  found — human  beings  of  every  variety  wedged  in 
with  poultry  and  animals,  flesh  and  vegetables.  We 
went  into  the  opium  dives,  entering  dark,  forbidding, 
rambling  old  houses,  and  after  meandering  around  in 
shadowy  courts  and  murky  passages  arrived  at  tiny 
rooms  full  of  rags  and  filth  and  fumes,  and  saw 
stretched  out  on  loathsome  cots  specimens  of  humanity 
that  had  once  been  called  men,  but  at  present  looked 
more  like  spirits  from  Hades ; bodies  thin  and  scrawny, 
the  yellow  skin  like  parchment  drawn  over  the  grinning 
bones ; small,  sleepy  almond  eyes  glistening  under 
shaggy  brows  that  beetled  from  bare,  knotty  foreheads ; 
a mass  of  blue-black  hair  coiled  at  the  back  of  the  head ; 
all — bones,  skin,  eyes  and  hair  piled  up  in  the  middle  of 
the  bed — smoking.  A flickering  candle  was  standing  on 
a little  table  close  by  the  couch.  Beside  the  light  was 
a small  jar  containing  a dark,  gummy  substance,  which 
we  soon  discovered  to  be  opium.  As  we  entered  one  of 
these  dens  the  smoker  grunted  a recognition  and  closed 
his  eyes.  In  his  hand  he  held  a long-stemmed  pipe,  with 
the  mouth-piece  glued  between  his  lips.  Suddenly  he 
sat  up,  and,  leaning  towards  the  table,  he  took  a small 


228 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


wiry  instrument,  and,  digging  up  a speck  of  opium  from 
the  jar,  he  punched  it  into  his  pipe,  the  opening  of 
which  was  at  the  end  of  the  bowl,  and  holding  it  over 
the  flames  sucked  the  stem  vigorously  until  the  opium 
puffed  and  fizzed.  Two  or  three  whiffs,  and  all  was 
over.  At  once  the  smoker  repeated  the  operation,  then 
again  and  again,  looking  at  us  appealingly  at  the  end  of 
each  performance  for  a piece  of  money.  We  endured 
the  sight  of  the  degradation  as  long  as  we  could,  then 
walked  away  filled  with  disgust. 

After  leaving  the  opium  dens  we  went  to  the  Chinese 
theatre.  It  was  filled  to  overflowing.  On  the  main 
floor  were  men,  all  sitting  on  the  back  of  the  seats,  and 
each  fellow  smoking  like  a steam  engine.  The  air  was 
so  full  of  the  fumes  as  to  almost  suffocate  one  and 
so  cloudy  as  to  obscure  the  vision.  Penned  off  in  the 
boxes  were  the  women.  As  soon  as  we  entered  we  were 
met  by  an  usher  and  marched  up,  not  to  a reserved  seat, 
but  on  the  stage,  in  the  midst  of  the  actors.  In  aston- 
ishment there  we  sat,  and  gazed  with  awe  upon  the  hor- 
rible creatures  dressed  to  resemble  nothing  on  earth  nor 
“ in  the  waters  under  the  earth.”  Painted  faces  and 
naked  chests  decorated  with  skins  and  tinsel,  marching 
to  and  fro  beating  pans  and  drums,  and  screeching, 
whooping  and  dancing.  In  the  midst  of  the  pandemo- 
nium we  sat  and  gazed,  and  the  smoking  Chinamen  in 
the  audience  sat  and  gazed  at  us.  It  was  a midsummer 
night's  horror. 

In  walking  through  the  uncertain  streets  in  the  flicker 
of  the  faintly  glimmering  lights  we  saw  poor  little 
Chinese  women  dressed  in  gaudy  clothes,  with  rouged 


The  Far  West  and  Alaska  229 

cheeks,  hurrying  by,  and  others  of  their  unfortunate 
sisters  looking  from  curtained  windows  down  upon  the 
surging  crowd  of  men  upon  the  streets  below.  Poor 
little  sparrows!  God  pity  them! 

From  the  theatre  we  went  to  the  joss  house — the 
Chinese  place  of  worship.  It  is  a large  building  with 
an  up-stairs  balcony.  The  furnishings  are  rich.  Idols, 
looking  like  monsters,  are  standing  about,  and  there 
are  heavy  curtains,  and  inscriptions  in  gold,  altars  tow- 
ering nearly  to  the  ceiling,  and  great  basins  where  the 
ashes  are  caught  that  fall  from  burning  the  sacred 
sticks.  There  was  the  “ holy  of  holies  ” that  the  foot  of 
a Christian  is  not  allowed  to  enter. 

We  visited  the  handsome  stores  and  watched  with 
amusement  the  lordly  air  and  stately  tread  of  the 
wealthy  merchants  as  they  walked  up  and  down  their 
establishments  bartering  away  their  costly  wares. 
While  standing  in  one  of  these  stores  a little  Chinese 
boy  six  years  old  came  in  and  asked  his  father  a ques- 
tion; then  followed  an  animated  conversation.  The 
merchant,  turning  to  us,  said : “ My  little  son.  He 

likee  Mellican  shoes.  I give  him  a pair,  but  he  will  not 
carry  paper  bundles  on  the  street.  He  do  not  think  it 
high-toned.  ” It  is  hard  to  Americanize  the  Chinaman. 
In  spite  of  missions  and  direct  contact  with  our  civiliza- 
tion, he  retains  his  oriental  dress  and  heathenish  cus- 
toms. 

My  first  view  of  the  Pacific  was  gained  at  Inspiration 
Point,  a lofty  eminence  to  the  west  of  San  Francisco 
overlooking  the  Golden  Gate,  the  beautiful  bay  and  the 
mountains.  The  trip  from  San  Francisco  to  Portland 


230  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

takes  one  through  the  delightful  Shasta  region.  The 
scenery  is  magnificent  every  step  of  the  way  as  far 
north  as  Ashland — an  almost  unbroken  stretch  of 
mountainous  country  that  grows  in  grandeur  until  the 
border  line  of  California  and  Oregon  is  passed.  Mt. 
Shasta  stands  out  like  a mighty  giant  for  hundreds 
of  miles,  robed  in  snow;  cold,  changeless,  full  of  ma- 
jesty and  mystery.  From  Portland  I sailed  down  the 
Columbia  river  nearly  to  its  mouth,  gaining  glimpses  of 
Mt.  Hood  and  Mt.  Rainier  along  the  route. 

Passing  from  Oregon,  I went  into  Washington,  visit- 
ing first  the  interesting  little  city  of  Vancouver,  and 
after  a short,  delightful  stay  at  the  capital,  made  a boat 
trip  on  Puget  Sound  to  Tacoma. 

During  the  first  week  of  July,  1897,  I took  passage  on 
the  elegant  steamship,  Queen , departing  for  Alaska. 
Going  from  Seattle  to  Sitka  is  like  sailing  up  a wide, 
smooth  river,  with  all  the  joys  of  a sea  voyage  without 
any  of  its  discomforts.  On  either  side  is  an  unbroken 
stretch  of  magnificent  scenery  that  transcends  all  de- 
scription. Every  view  is  full  of  exquisite  beauty,  or  re- 
plete with  grandeur.  The  trip  to  Alaska  is  the  summer 
tour  par  excellence,  sought  by  tourists  from  all  parts  of 
the  world,  and  pronounced  by  them  to  be  incomparable. 

To  convey  an  adequate  conception  of  the  mammoth 
size  of  Alaska,  it  is  said  that  if  one  were  to  stand 
twenty  miles  to  the  westward  of  San  Francisco,  he 
would  be  just  half-way  in  the  possessions  of  the  Fed- 
eral government.  Alaska  is  larger  than  all  the  states 
that  would  be  included  in  a line  drawn  east  from  Chi- 


The  Far  West  and  Alaska  231 

cago  to  the  Atlantic,  and  south  as  far  as  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico. 

The  rivers  of  Alaska  are  among  the  longest,  and  it 
has  the  highest  mountains,  the  largest  glaciers,  the  most 
numerous  bays,  straits,  sounds  and  channels,  and  the 
richest  gold  and  silver  mines  on  two  continents.  The 
wonderful  revelations  among  all  the  other  wonders  of 
this  wonder-land  are  the  glaciers.  On  the  trip  to 
Sitka  the  first  of  these  of  any  importance  that  is  passed 
is  the  Patterson.  After  that  comes  the  Davidson,  then 
the  Windome,  and  at  last  the  Muir,  that  marvelous 
inland  sea  more  than  one  hundred  fathoms  deep,  which 
is  renowned  as  one  of  the  most  astonishing  develop- 
ments in  the  natural  world.  There  are  said  to  be  ten 
other  glaciers  in  Alaska  as  large  as  the  Muir,  one  twice 
as  large,  besides  many  small  ones.  Now  for  the  Muir 
itself.  Imagine,  facing  a body  of  placid  water,  great 
colonnades  of  ice  forming  a crescent  two  miles  in 
length,  250  feet  high  at  the  centre,  and  sloping  gently 
down  at  either  end  to  150  feet.  Imagine  this  frozen 
mass  fashioned  in  the  most  fairy-like  forms  and  dream- 
creations — chiseled  grottoes,  turreted  castles,  Milan 
cathedrals,  Spanish  Alhambras,  all  breaking  into  each 
other  with  a bewitching  haphazardness.  Imagine  the 
color  of  each  a deep,  cerulean  blue,  intensely  so  in  the 
interior  and  paling  towards  the  outward  edges,  and 
over  this  azure,  silken  sheen,  a white  lace  veil,  spider- 
wrought  in  its  delicacy,  thrown  like  a snowy  cover. 
Imagine  the  light  of  the  sun  upon  it,  and  a thousand 
tints  and  glints  and  shadows  that  transform  and  glorify 
the  whole  into  a shimmering  hill-chain  of  fire-hearted 


232  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

opals.  Imagine  a dying  glacier  to  the  left  which  looks 
like  a mighty  river  caught  in  its  downward  career,  and 
held  cold  and  stiff  in  the  hand  of  death.  Imagine  ice 
fields  beyond,  stretching  back  into  the  interior  over 
thirty  miles,  further  than  the  eye  can  reach,  grim  and 
awful  in  their  calmness.  Imagine  mountains  on  all 
sides  rearing  their  shining  crests  6,000  feet  in  air. 
Imagine  Glacier  Bay  at  their  feet  clothed  in  silvery 
mist,  on  whose  surface  float  sky-hued  icebergs. 
Imagine  brooding  over  all  a deep  silence,  restful  and 
unbroken  as  that  in  the  heavenly  spheres.  Imagine 
all  this,  and  you  have  the  Muir  as  it  stands  to-day. 

On  the  day  of  our  arrival  in  Sitka  the  Hon.  John  G. 
Brady  received  his  “ credentials  ” ratifying  his  appoint- 
ment by  President  McKinley  as  governor  of  the  vast 
territory  of  Alaska. 

Before  making  the  journey  to  Alaska  Mrs.  Brady 
had  written  that  she  would  be  my  hostess  while  I was 
in  Sitka.  As  soon  as  the  steamer  anchored  an  old 
Indian  guide  was  employed  to  conduct  me  to  the  home 
of  Mrs.  Brady.  After  passing  through  several  streets 
of  the  queer  little  town,  and  along  the  water-front  of 
a dirty  Indian  village,  we  reached  a modern  residence 
which  my  heretofore  silent  companion  indicated  by 
certain  grunts  and  signs  to  be  my  destination.  Mrs. 
Brady  greeted  me  cordially.  On  learning  that  my  stay 
in  Sitka  would  be  but  for  a few  hours,  she  suggested 
that  we  go  from  house  to  house,  to  tell  the  people  of 
my  mission  in  order  to  secure  an  audience,  and  hold 
a meeting  that  evening. 

Acting  upon  her  suggestion,  we  went  from  one  end 


The  Far  West  and  Alaska  233 

of  the  town  to  the  other, — to  the  newspaper  office,  the 
home  of  the  Episcopal  bishop,  the  Presbyterian  mission, 
the  dwellings  of  the  Russians,  everywhere,  explaining 
the  work  of  the  Woman’s  Christian  Temperance  Union 
and  urging  attendance  at  the  evening  service.  At  nine 
o’clock,  while  light  was  still  in  the  heavens,  we  went 
to  the  little  Presbyterian  church  and  I spoke  to  the 
people  assembled  and  organized  a W.  C.  T.  U. — 
almost  under  the  pole-star.  That  night  Governor  and 
Mrs.  Brady  accompanied  me  to  the  Queen , and  early 
next  morning  the  ship  moved  away  from  Sitka. 

On  returning  to  Tacoma  we  found  the  city  in  a blaze 
of  excitement  over  the  discovery  of  the  Klondike  gold 
fields,  whose  fabulous  riches  have  since  lured  so  many 
to  fortune  or  to  doom. 

My  travels  and  lecture  work  continued  through  east- 
ern Oregon  and  Washington,  Idaho,  Montana,  Wyo- 
ming, Utah  and  Colorado.  I rested  from  my  labors  for 
several  days  in  Yellowstone  Park,  whose  wonders 
would  fill  a volume,  then  continued  farther  westward, 
stopping  en  route  in  Nevada  and  again  spending  some 
time  in  Southern  California  and,  on  my  way  home, 
speaking  in  Arizona,  Texas,  New  Mexico  and  Louisi- 
ana. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


THE  LATTER  DAY  SAINTS 

The  people  of  the  United  States  are  more  sensible  of  the 
disgrace  of  Mormonism  than  of  its  danger.  The  civilized 
world  wonders  that  such  a hideous  caricature  of  the  Christian 
religion  should  have  appeared  in  this  most  enlightened  land.— 
Josiah  Strong. 

There  is  no  place  in  the  Union  as  unique  in  every 
particular  as  Salt  Lake  City.  It  is  made  so  by  a peculiar 
people — the  Mormons — whose  strange  religious  faith 
sets  them  apart  from  all  the  rest  of  the  world.  Driven 
from  the  states  on  account  of  their  repugnant  doctrines, 
they  found  a refuge  in  the  desert  of  Utah,  which  they 
have  transformed  into  a modern  garden  of  Hesperides. 
The  city  sits  at  the  base  of  the  Wasatch  Mountains, 
the  breath  from  whose  cool  summits  invigorates  and 
strengthens.  The  streets  are  very  broad  and  smooth, 
shaded  by  numerous  trees  and  rendered  attractive  by 
handsome  homes  and  business  blocks.  Temple  Square 
is  the  centre  of  religious  life,  and  the  leading  object  of 
the  admiration  of  both  Mormon  and  Gentile.  Here  are 
found  three  magnificent  structures.  First  and  always 
the  Temple,  that  wonder  of  architectural  beauty  and 
splendor.  It  was  made  of  pure  white  granite  taken 
from  a canon  in  Utah.  It  was  forty  years  in  process 
of  erection,  and  cost  almost  $6,000,000.  With  the  ex- 

224 


235 


The  Latter  Day  Saints 

ception  of  the  Roman  Catholic  cathedral  in  New  York, 
it  is  the  most  superb  house  of  worship  in  America.  The 
Tabernacle  is  a mammoth  building  almost  circular  in 
shape,  and  having  the  appearance  of  a gigantic  turtle 
upon  the  outer  side.  Its  utmost  seating  capacity  is  said 
to  be  eleven  thousand,  the  great  gallery  holding  nearly 
as  many  as  the  main  floor.  The  wood-work  of  the 
superb  organ  came  from  the  forests  of  Utah. 
The  choir,  composed  of  five-hundred  voices,  is  wholly 
voluntary.  The  acoustic  properties  of  the  building  are 
exceedingly  rare. 

While  in  Salt  Lake  City  I addressed  an  audience  in 
the  Tabernacle.  One  of  the  wives  of  Brigham  Young, 
a Mormon  woman  doctor,  some  members  of  the  W.  C. 
T.  U.  and  several  officials  of  the  Mormon  church  occu- 
pied seats  on  the  terraced  platform.  B.  H.  Roberts,  the 
polygamous  Mormon,  whose  admission  to  Congress 
was  refused,  offered  prayer,  and  other  ecclesiastics  per- 
formed different  roles.  It  was  a strange  and  interesting 
experience. 

The  Assembly  Hall  is  an  elegant  building,  like  an 
opera  house  upon  the  inner  side.  These  three  structures 
are  within  one  enclosure;  a huge  wall  shuts  them  out 
from  the  busy  street,  and  around  the  Temple  is  a strong 
iron  fence,  beyond  which  the  foot  of  a Gentile  is  not 
allowed  to  enter.  None  but  the  saints  go  into  the  sacred 
precincts.  * During  the  years  that  the  Temple  was 
being  built  the  priests,  in  order  to  keep  up  the  courage 
of  the  Mormons  and  stimulate  them  to  greater  zeal  and 

* The  facts  stated  in  this  chapter  were  obtained  from  lead- 
ing Gentiles  and  Mormons  in  Salt  Lake  City. 


236  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


activity  in  raising  money  for  its  completion,  told  them 
that  as  soon  as  the  Temple  was  finished  the  Lord  would 
come  and  occupy  a room  in  it.  When  the  last  touches 
had  been  given,  and  the  Temple  stood  an  assured  real- 
ity, and  the  Lord  did  not  come,  Elder  Woodruff,  presi- 
dent of  the  State  Church,  said  he  had  a revelation  from 
God  that  He  was  offended  because  the  Gentiles  had  been 
allowed  to  gain  a foothold  in  Utah,  and  that  Christ 
would  not  appear.  Further,  that  the  wrath  of  God 
could  be  appeased  only  by  unceasing  work  to  evangelize 
the  world.  They  are  now  sending  out  their  mission- 
aries by  the  hundreds;  some  of  them  boys  not  out  of 
their  teens.  By  this  means,  and  the  thorough  organiza- 
tion of  the  church  in  every  branch,  Mormonism  is 
growing  tremendously.  It  cannot  be  realized  or  ap- 
preciated by  those  who  are  far  removed  from  its  centre, 
or  who  have  never  been  given  an  object-lesson  of  its 
strength. 

While  I was  in  Salt  Lake  City  the  Annual  Conference 
of  the  Mormons  was  held.  Men  and  women  poured 
into  the  Tabernacle  day  after  day  from  the  most  remote 
corners  of  Utah  and  adjoining  states.  Some  conception 
of  the  vastness  of  the  movement  was  gained  when  I saw 
that  great  auditorium  packed  from  door  to  door  at  a 
morning  business  session.  Imagine  what  it  would  be  at 
an  evening  meeting.  At  this  conference  the  elders  and 
bishops  and  other  high  church  dignitaries  occupied  the 
three  rows  of  seats  that  stand  one  above  the  other  in  a 
semi-circle  facing  the  main  body  of  the  edifice.  With- 
out introduction  one  man  after  another  arose  and  ad- 
dressed the  people.  At  the  close  of  each  harangue  the 


237 


The  Latter  Day  Saints 

speaker  said:  “ In  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ,  amen!” 
and  all  the  audience  answered,  “ Amen.”  During  this 
especial  conference  the  burden  of  each  orator’s  effort 
was  to  inveigh  against  the  priesthood  being  criticized 
by  the  church  members.  “ When  that  begins,”  said  one 
mighty  in  authority,  “ then  comes  darkness  and  death 
to  Mormonism.”  Their  leading  thought,  however,  was 
that  the  revelations  of  God  to  a people  must  be  given 
by  human  agencies ; and,  secondly,  these  agencies  must 
be  beyond  all  cavil.  Elder  Merrill  said,  “ The  Bible  is 
good,  and  the  Book  of  Mormon  is  good,  but  give  me  the 
living  oracles  of  the  church.”  Apostle  Taylor  then  took 
up  the  song,  beginning  with  Noah  and  going  on  down  to 
Joseph  Smith,  to  prove  that  the  written  Word  was  in- 
sufficient through  which  God  could  reveal  himself  to 
the  world.  “ Other  churches  have  the  Word  given  by 
men ; ours  is  given  by  direct  revelation.  Joseph  Smith 
had  this  revelation,  and  it  has  been  given  to  us  ever 
since ! ” cried  one  of  the  enthusiasts. 

The  Mormon  church  is  supported  by  tithes,  each  man 
and  woman  contributing  a certain  portion  of  their  in- 
come or  earnings,  and  the  church  has  become  very  rich 
through  it.  Another  mode  of  increasing  the  treasury 
is  by  baptisms  for  the  dead.  There  are  priests  who  are 
always  officiating  in  the  Temple,  and  thousands  of  bap- 
tisms are  performed  every  day.  Some  persons  are  bap- 
tized hundreds  of  times.  At  each  baptism  a sum  of 
money  is  paid  for  the  ceremony,  and  the  issuance,  by 
degrees,  of  the  tormented  soul  from  hell  assured. 

The  Mormons  are  devoted  pleasure-loving  people, 
and  all  their  pursuits  in  that  line  are  sanctioned  by  the 


23  8 A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


church.  Their  dances  are  always  opened  with  prayer, 
the  bishop  usually  officiating  on  the  occasion.  The 
church  and  state  are  closely  united  in  Mormonism.  No 
man  runs  for  a political  office  who  is  in  any  way  con- 
nected with  the  machinery  of  the  church,  unless  the 
church  approves.  In  Salt  Lake  City  the  functionaries 
of  Mormonism  have  their  offices  in  a large  building  in 
the  business  section  of  the  town,  and  here,  too,  are 
found  the  tithe-houses.  For  years  the  Mormons  were 
not  regarded  as  Christians  by  the  outside  world.  They 
speak  of  this  bitterly.  Christ  is  recognized  prominently 
in  their  worship,  but  usually  upon  the  same  basis  as 
Joseph  Smith.  The  following  incident  will  explain  vol- 
umes. A little  Mormon  girl,  returning  from  Sunday- 
school  one  Sabbath  day,  was  accosted  by  a Gentile  lady, 
and  the  ensuing  conversation  occurred : “ Do  you  like  to 
go  to  Sunday-school,  dearie  ? ” 

“ Yes,  ma’am.” 

“ What  have  you  been  studying  lately?  ” 

“ I have  just  been  learning  about  Moses  and  Jesus 
Christ.  Now  we  are  going  to  study  about  Joseph 
Smith.” 

The  whole  structure  of  Mormonism  was  conceived  of 
and  carried  into  execution  by  shrewd,  cunning  men. 
Joseph  Smith  is  canonized  among  the  Mormons,  and 
his  fame  sounded  through  successive  generations  as  a 
prophet  from  God.  Brigham  Young’s  statue  occupies 
a conspicuous  position  in  the  leading  street  of  Salt  Lake 
City,  and  his  praises  are  sung  by  the  Latter  Day  Saints. 
His  process  of  hoodwinking  is  gigantic.  At  one  time, 
it  is  said,  he  issued  a manifesto  that  he  had  received 


239 


The  Latter  Day  Saints 

a revelation  from  God  to  the  effect  that  only  a certain 
sort  of  tree  should  be  planted  by  the  Mormons  in  Utah, 
and  he  had  these  trees  in  his  nursery.  At  once  all  the 
faithful  cut  down  their  trees  and  ordered  others  from 
President  Young.  When  the  new  trees  were  three 
years  old  he  had  another  revelation  that  God  was  again 
displeased  with  the  variety,  and  desired  a different  kind. 
Once  more  the  trees  were  all  cut  down,  and  a sort  en- 
tirely unlike  the  others  ordered  from  Brigham  Young's 
nursery.  This  occurred  three  times,  the  orders  all  being 
filled  from  the  same  source.  He  reaped  a goodly  har- 
vest from  the  credulity  of  the  people.  A second  story 
similar  to  this  is  told  of  the  president.  When  the  saints 
had  accumulated  thousands  of  heads  of  hogs,  Brigham 
Young  said  it  was  declared  to  him  in  a revelation  from 
God  that  no  swine  should  be  used  by  the  Mormons ; but 
Brigham,  in  the  generosity  of  his  soul,  sorry  to  have 
his  brethren  suffer  the  loss,  bought  up  all  the  hogs  and 
sold  them  at  a fabulous  price  to  the  emigrants  passing 
through  Utah  on  their  way  to  the  far  West.  In  addi- 
tion to  all  these  statesman-like  manceuvers,  Brigham 
Young  added  to  his  wealth  by  seven  breweries. 

When  the  law  was  enforced  abolishing  polygamy 
there  were  1500  Mormons  in  jail  at  one  time  in  Salt 
Lake  City,  both  men  and  women.  If  a child  were  born 
in  a polygamous  marriage,  but  made  its  advent  in  an- 
other state,  it  and  its  parents  were  free  if  the  infant  was 
kept  away  from  Utah  for  three  years.  This  was  called 
“ outlawing  a child."  In  the  first  stages  of  the  Edmunds- 
Tucker  enforcing  act  many  hundreds  of  children  were 
“ outlawed,"  but  since  Utah  has  gained  statehood 


240 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


polygamy  is  practised  more  openly  by  those  who  had 
contracted  plural  marriages  in  the  earlier  years  of  the 
movement. 

It  had  been  the  wonder  of  my  life  how  any  woman 
could  enter  a polygamous  marriage.  When  I arrived 
in  Salt  Lake  City  and  met  some  of  the  leading  women  of 
the  church  of  the  Latter  Day  Saints  and  talked  with 
them  about  their  religion  and  home  affairs,  I realized 
the  motive  power  that  had  induced  them  to  be  wedded  to 
men  who  either  had  other  wives  or  would  take  unto 
themselves  others.  The  majority  of  the  women  of  the 
older  set  were  converted  to  Mormonism  in  their  early 
years.  Marriage  and  motherhood  were  held  up  as 
requisites  by  which  to  attain  unto  eternal  life,  and  the 
greater  sacrifices  a woman  makes  in  these  lines  the 
greater  will  be  her  exaltation  after  death. 

They  entered  polygamy  from  an  intense  religious  en- 
thusiasm, actuated  by  the  same  promptings  that  lead  a 
nun  into  the  convent  or  a martyr  to  the  stake.  This 
principle  is  still  alive  in  the  hearts  of  the  more  consci- 
entious Mormon  women ; but  as  the  years  have  gone 
by  and  the  power  of  the  church  increased,  of  course 
there  have  been  thousands  of  women  who  entered 
polygamous  marriages  from  baser  motives.  I expected 
to  find  a dull,  groveling  lot  of  people  in  whom  the  an- 
imal was  ever  to  the  front.  My  amazement  was  un- 
bounded as  woman  after  woman  was  introduced  who 
was  the  very  acme  of  refinement,  intelligence  and  often 
of  beauty. 

One  of  the  foremost  leaders  of  thought  among  the 
Mormon  women  edits  a paper  in  Salt  Lake  City  and  is 


241 


The  Latter  Day  Saints 

a devoted  club  woman.  She  has  represented  the  women 
of  Utah  in  the  National  Council  of  Women  and  ap- 
peared before  congressional  committees  to  secure  meas- 
ures for  the  advancement  of  her  people.  She  was  edu- 
cated in  Massachusetts,  and  when  in  her  teens  she 
accepted  the  Mormon  faith  and  crossed  the  plains  with 
other  pioneers  in  the  days  of  the  noted  exodus.  Like 
any  other  business  personage,  she  has  her  office  in  the 
city  and  is  as  full  of  affairs  as  the  most  energetic  man 
in  the  blocks  about  her. 

At  a reception  given  to  me  by  Mormon  women  in  a 
Mormon  woman's  home  in  Salt  Lake  City,  I met  typical 
Mormon  women  of  every  degree.  The  house  in  which 
the  reception  was  held  is  an  elegant  structure  with 
stained  glass  windows  and  rich  furniture ; every  curtain 
and  carpet  and  picture  in  exquisite  harmony.  The 
hostess  was  a woman  of  wide  culture ; she  had  traveled 
extensively  in  this  country  and  abroad  and  was  the  very 
essence  of  high-bred  grace  and  polished  manner.  Her 
five  daughters,  dressed  in  perfect  taste,  and  having  in- 
herited their  mother's  gentleness  and  attractiveness, 
helped  to  do  the  honors  of  the  occasion  most  beautifully. 
On  leaving  the  reception,  I said  to  a Mormon  woman 
who  accompanied  me : 

“ You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  our  hostess  is  one 
of  many  wives  of  some  man,  do  you  ? " 

• “ Oh,  yes ! " was  the  quick,  cheerful  reply.  “ She  is 
the  second  wife.  The  first  lives  not  far  from  her  on  an 
adjoining  street." 

Among  other  noted  Mormon  women  in  Salt  Lake 
City,  are  Dr.  Martha  Hughes  Cannon,  who  was  elected 


242 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


to  the  Senate  of  Utah,  a practising  physician,  and  Mrs. 
Zina  D.  Young,  one  of  the  nineteen  wives  of  Brigham 
Young.  The  latter  is  a vivacious  old  lady,  near  three 
score  and  ten  years  of  age.  She  is  called  “ aunt  Zinie  ” 
— “ aunt  ” being  a title  of  love  and  respect  among 
the  Latter  Day  Saints,  just  the  same  as  that  we  honor 
the  older  negro  women  in  the  South.  In  the  home 
of  Mrs.  Zina  D.  Young  I was  shown  the  celebrated 
painting  of  “ Joseph,  the  Prophet,”  which  hangs  in  a 
room  filled  with  portraits  of  Brigham  Young  and  other 
apostles  and  evangelists  of  the  Mormon  church.  The 
home  of  “ aunt  Zinie  ” is  an  unpretentious  cottage  sit- 
uated on  a quiet  street. 

Prominent  objects  of  Salt  Lake  City,  scarcely  second 
in  interest  to  the  Temple  and  Tabernacle,  are  the  dwell- 
ings of  Brigham  Young  called  “ Bee-hive  ” and  “ Lion- 
House,”  where  he  kept  his  many  wives,  and  the  palace 
of  Amelia,  his  favorite  wife,  that  stands  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  street.  The  latter  has  been  confiscated  since 
the  abolition  of  polygamy,  and  “ Bee-hive  ” and  “ Lion- 
House  ” have  also  passed  into  other  hands,  but  it  is 
understood  that  the  wives  who  are  still  living  are  well 
provided  for,  as  President  Brigham  Young  left  a large 
fortune.  The  younger  Mormon  men  and  women  do  not 
usually  enter  into  polygamous  marriages,  but,  it  is  said, 
on  incontrovertible  authority,  that  polygamy  is  still 
practised  by  the  older  people  who  had  contracted  plural 
marriages  before  the  Edmunds-Tucker  law  went  into 
effect.  Numbers  of  Mormon  women  are  rearing  large 
families  of  children  without  any  visible  husbands,  not 
only  in  Salt  Lake  City  but  in  states  adjoining  Utah ; and 


243 


The  Latter  Day  Saints 

these  women  are  held  in  high  repute  among  the  Mor- 
mons, thus  showing  that  they  are  regarded  as  legally 
wedded. 

When  I was  going  to  Salt  Lake  City  the  train  stopped 
at  a wayside  station  for  supper.  A pretty  girl  about 
thirteen  years  of  age  was  selling  glasses  of  milk  from 
a large  tin  bucket  that  she  carried  on  her  arm.  She  had 
a winsome  face  and  I asked : “ Are  you  a little  Mormon 
girl?”  " Yes,”  was  the  demure  reply.  " Have  you 
many  brothers  and  sisters  ? ” " Quite  a number.” 

" How  many  wives  has  your  father  ? ” “ Two.”  " Does 
he  live  with  both?”  " Yes.”  "Which  is  your 
mother?”  "The  first.”  "Do  you  like  the  other?” 
" Yes,  of  course ! why  shouldn't  I ? ” she  demanded  with 
blazing  eyes,  and  with  a disdainful  snap  of  her  bucket- 
top  she  marched  off.  Poor  little  thing!  She  had  the 
fire  and  loyalty  of  the  usual  Mormon  woman,  and  of 
every  other  woman  who  believes  in  a cause  whether 
right  or  wrong  and  has  to  suffer  for  it. 

The  wonder  and  glory  of  Utah  is  Great  Salt  Lake. 
This  marvel  in  nature  " covers  an  area  of  2300  square 
miles.”  Its  depth  is  seldom  greater  than  twenty  feet, 
but  at  the  deepest  point  it  is  sixty  feet.  Its  waters  are 
as  clear  as  crystal,  and  the  sand  at  the  bottom,  which 
is  plainly  seen,  is  a grayish  white.  There  are  several 
islands  in  Great  Salt  Lake,  and  the  mountains  are  round 
about  it.  A storm  upon  it,  or  a sunset,  is  a sight  cal- 
culated to  fill  one  with  awe  and  admiration.  At  a point 
upon  the  outer  edges,  where  the  desert  joins  the  lake, 
the  waters  have  been  gradually  cut  off;  the  dry  air 
quickly  evaporates  the  moisture,  leaving  shining  beds 


244 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


of  salt  glistening  in  the  light.  Heavy  rollers  drawn 
by  horses  are  passed  over  these;  then  the  crystalline 
mass  is  shoveled  up,  put  into  sacks,  and  placed  on  the 
cars,  which  run  close  to  the  fields  of  salt,  and  shipped 
to  the  outside  world. 

Saltair  is  the  name  of  a mammoth  bath-house  built 
out  in  the  waters  of  Salt  Lake.  To  this  huge  pavilion 
thousands  resort  every  summer  to  enjoy  the  exhilarat- 
ing effects  of  a float  on  Salt  Lake.  “ Going  down  into 
the  water  ” here  can  hardly  be  called  a bath,  as  the 
water  is  so  densely  impregnated  with  salt  that  one’s 
body  is  borne  up  lightly  like  a cork ; and  if  the  head  and 
feet  are  not  submerged,  can  glide  over  the  face  of  the 
sea  like  a fleck  of  down.  The  finest  saloon  in  Utah  is 
at  Saltair.  It  is  run  by  leading  Mormons.  Up  to 
twenty-eight  years  ago  the  Latter  Day  Saints  were  un- 
disturbed in  their  desert  retreat,  but  since  the  mining 
interests  have  grown  so  important  in  Utah,  the  state 
has  become  settled  by  hordes  of  Gentiles  until  now, 
really,  the  population  and  appearance  of  the  country  is 
very  much  like  other  localities,  except  that,  underneath 
the  surface,  the  Mormons  still  have  their  hold  upon 
material  prosperity  and  religious  power. 


CHAPTER  XXV 


IN  COLORADO 

For  looking  backward  through  the  year, 

Along  the  path  my  feet  have  pressed, 

I see  sweet  places  everywhere, — 

Sweet  places  where  my  soul  had  rest. 

— Phoebe  Cary. 

While  in  Salt  Lake  City  I spoke  at  several  meet- 
ings held  in  the  interest  of  the  temperance  cause  and 
lectured  once  on  Alaska.  The  state  convention  of  the 
Woman's  Christian  Temperance  Union  was  in  session 
a part  of  the  time.  Some  of  the  greatest  audiences  that 
it  has  been  my  pleasure  to  address,  greeted  me  in  the 
West.  Those  in  certain  portions  of  California,  Utah, 
and  Colorado  being  particularly  gratifying.  One  of 
the  most  interesting  places  which  I visited  in  Colorado 
was  Cripple  Creek,  the  famous  mining  camp.  The 
whole  country  in  the  gold  belt  surrounding  the  place 
presents  a most  novel  and  engaging  appearance  to  a 
stranger.  Numberless  prospects  cover  the  face  of  the 
hills.  A “ prospect 99  is  a venture  at  mining,  looking 
for  paying  ore.  If  not  found  in  sufficient  quantities  to 
meet  and  go  above  all  expense  of  operation,  the  venture 
remains  forever  a prospect.  If  the  precious  metals  in 
paying  quantities  are  found,  it  is  called  a “ mine."  The 

245 


246  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


population  of  the  mining  district  of  Cripple  Creek  was 
at  that  time  estimated  at  40,000.  In  the  town  itself  it 
had  reached  the  large  number  of  20,000.  It  is  wonder- 
ful how  human  beings  flock  to  these  rich  mining  camps ; 
how  they  suffer  privations  and  work  like  galley-slaves 
for  gold.  I found  educated  men  at  Cripple  Creek  delv- 
ing in  the  mines,  while  their  wives  cooked  and  did  every 
kind  of  hard  work,  living  in  two-room  huts  in  the  back 
yards  of  persons  who  were  equally  cramped  and  equally 
hard-worked.  The  open  saloons,  gambling  dens  and 
dance-houses  flourish  with  a brazen  effrontery  not  seen 
in  older  haunts  of  civilization.  At  the  “ Branch,”  the 
Monte  Carlo  of  Cripple  Creek,  gambling  is  carried  on 
with  a high  hand.  The  rooms  are  magnificently  fur- 
nished ; soft  velvet  carpets  cover  the  floors,  and  elegant 
oil  paintings  of  the  most  immoral  subjects  decorate  the 
walls.  Here  the  men  flock  to  scatter  their  hard-earned 
dollars  at  faro,  poker,  etc.,  while  the  “ Branch  ” pro- 
prietor, loaded  with  diamonds,  looks  on  complacently. 
In  this  institution  there  is  a palace  saloon  in  which  there 
is  a bar  of  heavily  carved  oak  with  beaten  brass  orna- 
mentations, costing  nothing  less  than  $20,000.  In  other 
drinking  establishments  similar  furnishings  are  found, 
and  musicians  are  stationed  near  the  door  to  beguile  the 
wayfarer  into  their  depths  by  bewitching  strains  of  ex- 
quisite melody.  The  miners  go  to  the  “ Branch  ” to  get 
their  checks  cashed.  In  one  day  the  amounts  rise  as 
high  as  $12,600.  Vice  of  a lower  order  than  drinking 
and  gambling  stalks  unrebuked  through  the  streets  of 
Cripple  Creek,  in  the  glare  of  daylight  as  well  as  in  the 
shades  of  night. 


In  Colorado 


247 


On  my  arrival  at  the  mining  camp  an  after- 
noon meeting  was  held  with  some  W.  C.  T.  U. 
women.  It  was  said  that  all  the  churches  in  the 
place  were  either  too  small  to  accommodate  the  de- 
sired audience  or  were  occupied  with  protracted 
services ; so  in  order  to  reach  the  crowd  the 
alternative  was  to  go  on  the  streets  at  night,  and  to  talk 
in  the  open  air.  That  evening  at  8 o’clock,  accompanied 
by  the  president  of  the  local  society,  I stood  on  the 
corner  of  a crowded  thoroughfare  and  spoke  to  hun- 
dreds of  people  thronging  the  way. 

At  the  close  of  the  meeting,  reinforced  by  another 
friend,  we  visited  the  saloons,  the  dance-halls  and  the 
most  prominent  gambling  dens.  In  the  rear  of  one  of 
the  grog-shops  were  found  two  young  men,  one  frail 
and  pallid,  seated  at  a piano ; the  other  leaning  against 
a whiskey  barrel.  They  were  both  singing  a pathetic 
melody,  the  chorus  ending  with,  “ I am  an  outcast,  a 
wanderer;  I am  far  from  home  to-night.”  We  stopped 
to  listen.  Going  over  the  words  a second  time  the  boy- 
pianist  looked  at  us  unsmilingly  and  said,  “ That  means 
me ! ” As  we  walked  down  the  sin-cursed  street,  for 
blocks  the  plaintive  refrain  followed  us  on  the  summer 
air,  “ I am  an  outcast,  a wanderer.”  Doubtless  hun- 
dreds of  hearts  in  Cripple  Creek  responded  to  the  plaint. 
A short  distance  beyond  Colorado  Springs,  is  found 
South  Cheyenne  Canon,  noted  for  its  wonderful  scenery 
and  as  the  place  where  Helen  Hunt  Jackson  desired  her 
body  to  be  buried.  The  canon  is  short,  but  stupendous. 
Ponderous  granite  mountains  come  so  near  together 
that  on  first  sight  it  seems  impossible  that  a roadway 


248  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


could  ever  be  forged  between  them.  It  looks  as  if  a 
mighty  hand  had  pried  the  boulders  apart,  and  that 
they  may  at  any  time  close  up  their  ranks  again.  In 
the  grandest  part  of  the  canon  are  found  Seven  Falls 
that  present  a scene  full  of  entrancing  loveliness.  The 
granite  has  been  smoothly  terraced  by  mother  nature 
in  seven  different  places  in  a great  gorge,  and  over  these 
surge  volumes  of  water  clear  as  crystal.  At  this  point 
the  carriage  is  abandoned  and,  climbing  up  several 
flights  of  steps  hundreds  of  feet  high,  the  brow  of  a 
mountain  is  gained  and  at  once  commences  a search  for 
the  sacred  spot  where  the  body  of  that  sweet  singer  and 
romance  writer,  Helen  Hunt  Jackson,  was  laid  to  rest. 
It  is  found  on  the  slope  overlooking  the  yawning  clefts 
in  the  canon  and  in  close  proximity  to  the  Seven  Falls, 
— a cool,  peaceful  nook  under  the  sighing  pines.  A 
mass  of  stones  now  lie  on  the  empty  grave,  and  between 
these  are  wedged  numerous  cards  of  visitors  who  de- 
sired to  let  the  hawks  and  eagles  and  mountain-grasses 
know  that  their  majesties  had  called. 

Helen  Hunt  Jackson  died  in  San  Francisco.  In  her 
last  days  she  requested  that  she  be  buried  in  South 
Cheyenne  Canon.  As  soon  as  was  practicable,  her  hus- 
band had  her  body  brought  from  the  city,  where  it  was 
laid  temporarily,  and  carried  over  the  mountain  heights 
by  a carriage-road  to  her  favorite  place,  where  she  had 
often  sat  and  read  and  written  far  removed  from  the 
din  and  strife  of  the  outside  world.  Only  a few  friends 
formed  the  mournful  party  as  it  filed  its  way  through 
the  mountain  fastnesses  with  its  precious  burden  to  the 
abiding  place  that  had  been  chosen  above  all  on  earth 


In  Colorado 


249 


in  which  to  wait  for  the  resurrection  morn.  The  burial- 
ground  was  so  unusual  that  it  attracted  hordes  of  visit- 
ors, who  began  to  make  it  a rendezvous  for  picnics  and 
headquarters  for  advertisements.  The  notoriety  and 
accompanying  desecration  grew  so  offensive  to  Mr. 
Jackson  that  he  had  his  wife’s  remains  removed  to  the 
cemetery  at  Colorado  Springs,  and  the  grave  marked  by 
a modest  headstone.  Helen  Hunt  Jackson  will  linger 
forever  in  the  memory  of  mankind  as  the  friend  of  the 
Indian, — “ Romona  ” and  “ A Century  of  Dishonor  ” 
immortalizing  her  as  the  strongest  advocate  for  that  un- 
fortunate race  known  in  the  literary  or  philanthropic 
world. 

After  the  long  absence  of  almost  nine  months,  dur- 
ing which  I traveled  thousands  of  miles  and  had  num- 
berless strange  experiences,  going  back  to  my  blessed 
old  plantation  home  was  looked  forward  to  with  greater 
eagerness  than  in  all  my  life  before,  especially  as  I came 
with  health  fully  restored.  A hearty  welcome  awaited 
me  as  always  from  mother  and  father,  who  were  ever 
in  such  perfect  accord  and  sympathy  with  my  public 
work.  Oh!  the  joy,  the  abandon,  the  peace,  the  inde- 
scribable sweetness  in  one's  own  home  such  as  is  found 
nowhere  else  on  earth ! 

At  mine  there  is  rest  of  body  and  soul  for 
me.  Everything  is  kept  quiet.  Mother’s  solicitude 
goes  so  far  as  to  prompt  her  to  station  little 
negroes  at  strategic  points  about  the  yard  to  pre- 
vent the  roosters  from  coming  within  hearing  dis- 
tance of  my  windows,  fearing  their  crowing  may 
disturb  me.  In  the  afternoons,  when  my  usual  walk  is 


250  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 

taken  over  the  hills  and  through  the  beautiful  woods,  a 
delegation  of  eight  or  twelve  young  black  boys  and  girls 
accompanies  me.  They  usually  return  laden  with  flowers 
and  grasses  and  always  expect  remuneration  of  some 
sort;  so  I have  them  stand  in  line  and  rejoice  their 
hearts  by  filling  their  hands  with  sugar.  Off  they 
scamper, — eating  as  they  go.  At  Christmas,  the  custom 
of  all  the  negroes  on  the  plantation  is  to  rush  into  the 
“ white  folks’  ” house  one  by  one  or  in  groups  and  cry, 
“ Chris’mus  giff ! I done  cotch  you  fust.  ” Every  one 
expects  a present  of  some  sort,  if  nothing  more  than  a 
bit  of  fruit  or  a stick  of  candy ; but  there  must  be  some- 
thing, in  order  to  prevent  the  deepest  disappointment. 
In  ante-bellum  days  each  was  remembered  generously ; 
every  old  ex-slave  still  expects  it  and  they  have  handed 
down  this  expectation  to  their  descendants. 

Just  after  supper,  in  the  spring  and  summer,  father 
and  I sit  on  the  front  gallery  and  talk  as  freely  and  con- 
fidentially as  in  my  young  girlhood.  In  winter,  after 
the  evening  meal,  mother  reads  to  me  for  two  hours. 
On  these  visits  home,  I hug  the  fleeting  hours  to  my 
soul ; so  full  are  they  of  happiness  and  satisfaction.  The 
pain  of  parting  from  my  dear  ones  has  never  grown  less 
poignant.  While  life  lasts  I cannot  forget  the  picture 
which  is  repeated  at  each  of  my  departures.  The  wait- 
ing vehicle  at  the  front  gate,  the  horse  held  by  some  old 
negro  servant.  Father  suffering  visibly,  but  smiling 
bravely,  saying,  “ God  bless  you,  daughter,  and  bring 
you  back  in  safety  to  us.”  Mother  folding  me  to  her 
heart  and  sobbing,  “ Good-bye,  darling ! Good-bye,  my 
precious  one.”  My  youngest  brother  walking  briskly 


In  Colorado 


25I 

up  and  exclaiming,  “ Do  come  on,  sister ! You  will 
never  catch  the  train  in  time.,,  As  we  drive  under  the 
cedars,  on  looking  back,  father  is  seen  busily  engaged 
examining  the  fixtures  of  the  gate  and  mother  is  walk- 
ing back  and  forth  on  the  long  gallery,  crying,  “ Good- 
bye, darling,  good-bye ! ” And  yet,  they  would  not  have 
me  leave  the  work  and  remain  with  them  for  all  the 
gold  in  Alaskan  hills. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


THE  OLD  PLANTATION  HOME 

Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot, 

And  never  brought  to  mind, 

Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot, 

And  days  of  auld  lang  syne. 

For  several  weeks  during  the  winter  of  1897-98  Miss 
Jessie  Ackerman  was  my  guest  at  the  plantation.  She 
was  very  much  interested  in  the  colored  people  and  re- 
quested the  privilege  of  holding  a meeting  with  some 
of  them  in  our  dining-room  and  of  furnishing  the  re- 
freshments. She  desired  to  invite  only  fifty  and  these 
to  be  limited  to  the  ex-slaves  of  the  Kearney  family. 
New  Year’s  day  was  appointed  for  the  gathering. 
Long  before  the  noon  hour  our  dusky  guests  began  to 
arrive.  Some  came  in  respectable  buggies  driving  well- 
groomed  horses,  some  in  lumbering  farm  wagons ; 
others  rode  mules  or  walked.  They  were  comfortably 
clothed  and  ragged,  middle-aged  and  old,  strong  and 
feeble.  One  stumped  in  on  a peg  leg,  his  original  mem- 
ber having  been  torn  off  in  a cotton-gin  “ since  de 
wah ; ” rheumatism  had  sentenced  another  to  crutches, 
and  one  came  with  tightly  bandaged  head  to  cover  an 
empty  eye  socket ; but  all  felt  very  high-toned  and  im- 
portant and  representative  of  the  family  dignity.  The 

252 


The  Old  Plantation  Home 


253 


dining-room  had  been  decked  and  garnished  for  many 
hours  in  anticipation  of  the  unusual  event.  There  were 
great  branches  of  holly,  rich  in  its  dark  green  leaves 
and  crimson  berries,  graceful,  grey  sprays  of  trailing 
Spanish  moss,  and  clusters  of  mistletoe  banked  over  the 
mantel,  the  pictures,  the  sideboard,  the  window-frames, 
— at  every  point  of  vantage.  In  the  centre  of  the  large 
table  a huge  basket  of  fruit  peeped  out  from  between 
drooping  vines,  and  cakes  and  nuts  and  candies  com- 
pleted an  artistic  and  enticing  decoration. 

The  negroes  stood  in  solid  ranks  about  the  table. 
Father  had  declined  to  act  as  master  of  ceremonies,  as 
he  was  not  well,  and  mother  also  refused  the  honor, 
which  consequently  devolved  upon  me.  Near  the  door 
leading  into  the  hall  father  stood,  looking  very  worn 
and  feeble,  near  him  were  my  youngest  brother  and 
guests  who  had  dined  with  us ; further  on  Miss  Acker- 
man and  myself,  and  beyond  us  sat  mother. 

I opened  the  ceremonies  by  announcing  that  the 
agreeable  occasion  had  been  planned  and  carried  out  by 
Miss  Ackerman ; that  she  had  furnished  the  good  things 
and  wanted  them  all  to  have  a happy  time.  After 
telling  them  of  her  travels  and  work  as  a mission- 
ary, Miss  Ackerman  was  introduced.  She  fired 
their  enthusiasm  by  a stirring  speech.  When  she 
related  the  incident  of  walking  on  the  bottom  of 
the  ocean,  of  lying  in  the  ear  of  a god  in  India, 
and  portrayed  the  terrors  of  a storm  at  sea,  they 
gave  a long,  low,  whining  groan  and  pressed  nearer  to- 
gether, swaying  to  and  fro.  At  the  close  of  her  address 
the  meeting  was  thrown  open  and  different  persons 


254  A Slaveholder's  Daughter 


were  called  upon  for  testimonies.  We  thought  to  make 
it  a love-feast  and  to  be  edified  by  many  ripe  Christian 
experiences  ; but  it  took  a different  turn.  “ Aunt  Miry,” 
an  old  woman  on  crutches,  who  was  one  of  grand- 
mother’s house  servants,  was  the  first  one  asked  to 
speak.  Without  hesitating  a moment  she  said : “ Who- 
ever would  er  thought  that  I could  er  cum  inter  Marse 
Walter’s  house  lak  dis ! It  makes  me  think  might’ly  o’ 
de  time  when  ole  mis’  wur  er  livin’,  ” then  there  fol- 
lowed a short  dissertation,  in  mournful  intonations,  on 
the  good  old  times  when  she  “ had  ben  tuk  kyar  uv  an’ 
everybody  had  plenty  and  to  spar’.” 

Numbers  of  men  and  women  followed  in  the  note 
struck  by  “ Aunt  Miry.”  The  pathos  deepened ; mother 
left  the  room.  Father  was  the  “ Marse  Walter  ” re- 
ferred to  in  the  speeches.  I watched  his  face  as  the 
meeting  progressed.  His  eyes  filled  slowly  with  tears 
and  his  lips  trembled  with  suppressed  emotion.  Finally 
“ Uncle  Jim  Fisher  ” was  called  on ; he  had  been  one  of 
grandfather’s  slaves  and  was  the  old  man  with  the 
empty  eye-socket,  left  so  by  an  invading  sliver  of  iron 
while  he  worked  in  a blacksmith  shop.  Lifting  his  sad 
face  reverentially  he  said  in  measured  tones  as  if  chant- 
ing a requiem : “ Holy,  holy,  holy ! O,  how  sweet  to  be 
in  my  young  Marster’s  house  dis  day!  Look  at  my 
young  Marster!  fresh  an’  fine,  jes’  off  de  vine!  ” point- 
ing to  father,  aged  and  feeble,  but  who  was  never 
anything  but  beautiful  in  the  eyes  of  the  old  slave  who 
remembered  him  only  and  always  as  the  handsome 
“ young  marster”  of  brilliant  youth. 

Uncle  Jim’s  speech  was  the  most  grandiloquent  of 


The  Old  Plantation  Home  255 

the  day,  and  the  most  touching.  When  he  finished 
father’s  indisposition  was  forgotten.  His  soul  was 
awake  and  his  mind  stirred  with  memories  of  a hallowed 
past ; especially  with  the  part  he  had  played  in  the  great 
drama  so  intimately  allied  with  the  destiny  of  the  race 
whose  representatives  now  before  him  had  been  held  in 
slavery  by  himself  and  his  kinsmen.  Stepping  quietly 
to  the  front  he  threw  back  his  head,  assuming  an  atti- 
tude peculiar  to  him  when  deeply  moved,  and  made  a 
strong,  tender  speech  to  those  dark  friends  of  happier 
days.  Pressing  about  him  closely  they  began  to  moan, 
crying  softly  with  uplifted  faces  bathed  in  tears.  “ I 
have  been  your  friend  and  shall  be  unto  the  end,”  were 
father’s  closing  words.  “ Dat’s  so ! Marse  Walter,  dat’s 
so ! ” “ Praise  Gord,  dat  sho  is  so ! ” came  from  all  parts 
of  the  room. 

Finally,  Harrison  Green,  the  only  preacher  present, 
was  asked  to  pray.  He  was  a Plercules  in  ebony — one 
of  mother’s  former  slaves.  Closing  his  eyes  and  stiff- 
ening his  neck  he  made  a prayer  distinctive  of  the  negro 
pastor  in  his  unlettered,  unfettered  religious  frenzy, — 
abjectly  heart-revealing,  boisterously  sin-denunciatory, 
crowded  with  heaven  ascending  ejaculations  and  hell 
descending  imprecations,  all  punctured  with  stentorian 
groans  that  appalled  the  ear  and  dismayed  the  soul. 
Miss  Ackerman  had  provided  fifty  paper  bags  to  be 
filled  with  the  refreshments  and  taken  home  by  her 
colored  guests.  When  everybody  had  been  served,  Har- 
rison Green,  the  inflated  preacher,  said  to  me,  “ Miss 
Belle,  yer  mus’  call  dis  yer  meetin’  ter  order  agin  an’ 
give  me  er  chance  ter  say  er  word  to  dese  yer  folks.” 


256  A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


Silence  was  restored.  Walking  ostentatiously  to  a small 
table  near,  pushing  his  hands  into  his  pockets  and  scru- 
tinizing the  faces  of  his  hearers,  Harrison  said : “ Look 
here,  niggers ! is  yer  gwine  ter  brek  up  dis  here  meetin’ 
in  er  onmannerly  fashion,  an’  let  dis  strange  white 
’ooman  leave  widout  returnin’  her  sum  perliteness  by 
depressin’  our  thanks  ? ” Wheeling  around  to  Miss 
Ackerman,  he  continued : “ We  is  pow’ful’  bleeged  ter 
yo’,  my  sister,  for  dese  yer  things  yer  gin  us  fer  ter 
eat,  but  pow’fuller  more  thankful  for  what  yer  tole  us 
in  yo’  speech.  Before  yo’  go  away,  ’dough,  I think 
yo’  had  better  tell  us  how  to  raise  our  chilluns.”  Shak- 
ing his  fist  in  sudden  wrath  at  the  group  of  boys  and 
girls  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room  who  had  crept  in 
unnoticed  and  who  were  now  chattering  like  guineas 
and  cracking  nuts  with  their  shining  teeth,  he  ex- 
claimed : “ Shut  up  dat  fuss,  niggers ! Ain’  yer  got  no 
manners  ’fore  white  folks  ? ” Cooling  down  again  and 
altering  his  voice  to  the  ministerial  tone,  one  hand  thrust 
out  in  mild  gesticulation,  he  said  to  his  colored  friends : 
“ Now  my  bredderin,  a partin’  an’  a farewell  word  ter 
yo’  an’  me  is  dis : we  mus’  be  so  ongrateful  fer  what  dis 
here  strange  white  ’ooman  has  done  fer  us  dis  New 
Year  Day  as  to  make  us  more  inconsistent  accordin’ 
ter  our  religious  departments  fru  all  de  years  what  am 
ter  cum.” 

After  the  benediction  was  pronounced  “ de  meetin’ 
broke  up.”  Then  the  women  came  in  a shy  way  to  greet 
Miss  Ackerman  and  me.  What  they  said  to  her  she  did 
not  tell,  but  one  old  woman,  holding  my  hand  in  both 
her  horny  ones  said : “ Honey,  doan’  yer  know  me?  My 


Now,  my  bredderin,  a partin’  an’  a farewell  word.” 


The  Old  Plantation  Home  257 

gal,  Jemimy  Jane,  she  nussed  yer.”  Another,  after  a 
hearty  handshake,  exclaimed : “ Lor’,  little  missy ! I 
ain’  seen  yer  since  yer  wur  er  chile.  My  gal,  Drunella 
Clarissy,  nussed  yer ! ” In  mother’s  room  I heard  Sally, 
the  heroine  of  the  silver  and  Federal  soldiers,  saying: 
“ Humph ! Dat  white  lady  may  be  er  traveler  but  she 
cyant  tell  me  much.  I’se  seed  storms  on  deGulf  o’ Mex- 
ico when  I use  ter  go  down  dar  wid  mistis’  jes’  ’bout  as 
big  as  her  in  ennybody  else  has  ever  saw.  Gwine  down 
inter  de  bottom  o’  de  ocean  an’  layin’  in  de  year  o’  dat 
gord  I doan’  know  nuthin’  ’bout.  I sho  ain’  done  dat! 
But  I jes’  knows  one  thing:  what  dis  here  nigger  an’ 
her  white  folks  has  seed  am  sholy  hard  to  beat ! ” 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


THE  LAST  FAREWELL 

Thank  God  that,  looking  across  a grave, 

The  world’s  dim  vision  clears, 

Till  Calvary  lies  in  the  golden  glow 

Of  God’s  eternal  years. — Mary  T.  Lathrap. 

Eighteen  hundred  ninety-eight  was  another 
fateful  year  to  me.  In  January  a business  trip 
was  made  to  Jackson,  Mississippi.  In  the  early 
dawn  of  a cold,  grey  morning  I was  seated  in  a 
train  for  the  purpose  of  returning  home.  The  only  per- 
son in  the  car  besides  myself  was  a lady  who  sat  at  some 
distance  behind  me.  In  a few  moments  a gentleman, 
very  Western  and  very  noticeable  in  appearance,  en- 
tered. Approaching  me  he  lifted  his  hat  and  said 
hesitatingly,  “ Excuse  me,  but  I followed  you  because 
I thought  I knew  you.  ” There  was  a quizzical  look  on 
his  face  which  I construed  as  amusement.  Thinking 
that  the  stranger's  purpose  in  accosting  me  was  simply 
to  form  an  acquaintanceship  to  relieve  the  ennui  of 
travel,  all  my  Puritanical  instincts  rebelled.  With  a 
repellant  air  I said,  “ Yes?  ” Considerably  disconcerted 
but  evidently  intent  on  discovering  my  identity  he  scru- 
tinized my  hand  satchel  for  a name,  and  with  a search- 

258 


The  L ast  Farewell 


259 


in g gaze  into  my  eyes  asked : “ Is  this  Miss  Belle  Kear- 
ney? ” “ It  is,  sir/’  was  my  reply,  stiffer  than  before. 
A radiant  smile  passed  over  the  gentleman's  face  and 
bending  toward  me  he  said  in  low,  sweet  tones  that  be- 
gan to  sound  wonderfully  familiar,  “ Have  the  years 
washed  out  all  remembrance  ? I am  your  brother ! ” 

It  required  then  only  a moment  to  recognize  the  be- 
loved comrade  of  early  days,  who  read  Shakspeare  with 
me  and  helped  to  build  the  “ castles  in  the  air."  There 
was  the  same  tall,  lithe  figure,  but  with  a man's  sinewy 
strength  and  graceful  dignity  in  place  of  the  boyish 
bearing  that  filled  my  memory.  Since  leaving  Missis- 
sippi for  the  West,  at  seventeen  years  of  age,  he  had 
lived  in  Texas,  Mexico  and  the  mountains  of  New 
Mexico.  In  all  that  time  he  had  returned  home  but 
once. 

After  three  days  only,  spent  together  on  the  planta- 
tion, I was  forced  to  leave  to  fill  some  lecture  engage- 
ments. My  brother  had  never  heard  me  speak,  so  he 
accompanied  me  to  my  next  two  appointments.  On  the 
last  day  we  dined  together  at  a dear  friend's  home.  In 
the  afternoon  I stood  on  the  front  porch  and  waving 
my  hand  to  him  called  out : “ Farewell,  dear  heart ! 

Come  home  to  us  every  year  after  this,  won’t  you  ? " A 
smiling  good-bye  was  answered  and  he  was  gone.  Little 
did  I dream  then  that  we  should  never  meet  again  on 
earth. 

“ Was  it  so  long?  It  seems  so  brief  a .while 

Since  this  still  hour  between  the  day  and  dark 
Was  lightened  by  a little  fellow’s  smile; 

Since  we  were  wont  to  mark 


z6o 


A Slavenolder’s  Daughter 


The  sunset's  crimson  dim  to  gold,  to  gray, 

Content  to  know  that,  though  he  loved  to  roam 
Care-free  among  the  comrades  of  his  play, 

Twilight  would  lead  him  home. 

“ But  if  we  so,  with  eager  eyes  and  glad, 

Looked  forward  to  his  coming  in  the  gloom; 

If  so  our  hearts  leaped  out  to  meet  the  lad 
Whose  smiles  lit  all  the  room — 

Shall  there  not  be  a Presence  waiting  thus 
To  still  the  bitter  craving  of  the  quest? 

Shall  there  not  be  a welcome,  too,  for  us 
When  we  go  home  to  rest  ? ” 

The  following  summer  my  headquarters  were  made 
at  a quiet  little  village  on  Narragansett  Bay.  I was  the 
guest  of  my  beloved  friends,  Ednah  B.  Hale  and  E. 
Carol  Hodge,  who  are  the  gifts  of  God  to  me.  While 
resting  in  their  seaside  cottage,  the  awful  tidings 
reached  me  of  the  sudden  death  of  the  noble  brother 
from  whom  I had  so  recently  parted.  Immediately  after 
his  visit  to  us  in  the  spring  he  went  to  Las  Cruces,  New 
Mexico,  where  he  intended  to  make  his  future  home 
engaging  in  the  practice  of  law.  My  precious  brother ! 
Out  of  the  shadows  of  the  earth-life  he  has  stepped ; 
the  sunlight  is  over  there.  Surely  our  Father  has  pre- 
pared for  him  a place  where  his  God-given  faculties  can 
find  their  full  development,  where  he  can  grow  into 
“ the  perfect  stature/’  Surely  there  awaited  him  the 
unspeakable  bestowment  of  immortality — a happy, 
peaceful,  glorified  immortality.  In  the  intuitive,  di- 
vinely wrought  assurance  that  had  come  to  me,  I asked 
no  questions  of  God.  I was  conscious  of  no  rebellion. 


The  Last  Farewell 


261 

I lifted  my  thoughts  calmly  to  Him,  and  with  eyes  un- 
dimmed with  tears  and  lips  untrembling  with  sobs,  I 
said : “ It  is  all  right,  my  Lord,  whatever  Thou  sendest 
me.  It  is  all  right.”  This  was  the  second  brother  who 
had  gone  out  from  us  in  less  than  three  years ; the  first 
not  quite  thirty,  this  last  nearly  ending  his  thirty-first 
year. 

Two  scenes  are  stamped  upon  my  brain  and  burned 
into  my  heart  eternally.  One  October  day  in  1895 — a 
little  funeral  procession  moving  slowly  from  the  old 
home  at  Vernon  across  the  sunlit  fields.  The  open 
grave,  the  gleams  of  evening  light  and  flickering  shad- 
ows slanting  across  its  sides  and  upon  the  coffin;  the 
home-going,  the  fever,  the  semi-consciousness,  the  rest- 
ing, the  abiding,  the  all-rightness.  In  July,  1898,  alien 
hands  ministering  to  the  young  stranger  hundreds  of 
miles  from  home  and  loved  ones,  laid  to  rest  at  last  by 
men  whom  the  perils  and  the  loneliness  of  the  great 
American  desert  had  made  brotherly  and  loyal.  Now 
there  is  a lonely  grave  at  La  Luz,  in  the  far-away  ter- 
ritory of  New  Mexico,  in  the  depths  of  isolation,  and 
the  dreary  winds,  and  the  sweep  and  moan  of  the  prairie 
grasses  as  they  bend  toward  it — a lonely  grave,  and — 
God! 

After  it  came — the  message  of  death — I kept  right  on 
with  my  work.  What  else  could  I do?  “ For  suffering 
and  enduring  there  is  no  remedy  but  striving  and  do- 
ing.” In  the  midst  of  the  work  and  the  loneliness, — the 
crowds  and  the  stress  of  the  human.  Out  of  the  dark- 
ness a voice  was  singing  to  my  soul : 


262 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


“ The  self-same  twilight,  cool,  and  calm,  and  dim, 
That  led  him  home  to  us,  despite  our  fears, 

Shall  lead  us  home  to  him ! ” 

While  on  my  way  to  New  England  in  the  summer  of 
1898,  I stopped  in  Pulaski,  Tennessee,  to  pay  my  re- 
spects to  my  venerable  great-aunt,  Mrs.  Ann  Lindsay, 
who  wore  the  crown  of  eighty-five  years  This  gra- 
cious old  lady  discussed  the  Spanish  war  with  absorbing 
interest  and  showed  me  family  relics  more  than  a hun- 
dred years  of  age.  At  last  she  drew  out  the  family 
tree  and  began  to  descant  upon  it.  She  appeared  to 
conclude  that  so  late  born  a “ young  American  ” needed 
tutoring  on  ancestral  lines.  “ My  child,”  she  said  to 
me,  while  her  sixty-five-year-old  bachelor-son  stood  by 
and  adjusted  her  white  lace  cap : “ I suppose  you  know 
that  your  great,  great,  great,  great-grandfather  was 
Sir  David,  the  Earl  of  Lindsay,  of  Scotland?  and  that 
his  son,  James,  came  to  America  ‘ forward  ’ in  the 
seventeenth  century,  in  the  second  or  third  fleet  that 
sailed  into  James  river,  and  settled  in  Gloster  county, 
Virginia?  and  that  your  kinswoman,  Mary  Lindsay, 
daughter  of  Joshua,  son  of  James,  son  of  Sir  David, 
married  Edward  Masterson,  who  was  son  of  an  Irish 
earl?  and  that  Ann  Lindsay,  daughter  of  John,  son  of 
James,  son  of  Joshua,  son  of  old  James  the  first,  married 
George  Zollicoffer,  son  of  John  Jacob  Zollicoffer,  a 
Swedish  baron?  and  did  you  know  that  you  are  the 
great,  great,  great,  grand-daughter  of  Phillip  Kearney 
whose  father  was  an  Irish  earl  ? And  do  you  know  that 


The  Last  Farewell 


263 

the  Lindsay  coat-of-arms  is  Three  Bullocks’  Heads  and 
the  Bloody  Yoke — livery  blue,  trimmed  with  red?  You 
must  apply  to  the  Herald’s  office  of  the  ancient  govern- 
ment to  get  the  Kearney  and  the  Masterson  coat-of- 
arms,  not  remembered  by  any  present  member  of  the 
family.” 

As  the  dear  old  lady  talked  on,  the  past  now  almost 
her  only  present,  it  was  difficult  to  suppress  a certain 
sense  of  the  ludicrous.  A scene  of  the  long  ago  came 
before  me;  of  my  standing  in  the  midst  of  my  four 
brothers  with  this  same  family  record  in  discussion,  and 
of  my  saying,  “ Boys,  when  you  marry  I will  frame 
a tree  for  each  of  you  and  present  it  on  your  wedding 
day.”  How  they  laughed,  and  one  of  them  said  deri- 
sively, “ We  had  just  as  soon  have  so  much  sky  ! It  isn’t 
the  family  tree  that  counts  this  day  in  the  world,  but 
brains,  brains,  brains, — and  the  energy  to  back  them ! ” 
It  took  me  a long  time  to  learn  this  wisdom,  so  early 
acquired  by  a boy’s  free  contact  with  men;  but  after 
much  sorrowful  experience  I did — thank  God!  Years 
of  philanthropic  work  have  taught  me  that  “ It’s  only 
noble  to  be  good.”  However,  I listened,  interested,  to 
my  venerable  aunt  and  later  paid  a visit  with  a heart 
full  of  reverence  to  a little  grave-yard  in  the  town  of 
Pulaski,  and  searched  out  a long  vault  of  stone  under 
which  lay  the  dust  of  one  of  my  great,  great-grand- 
mothers. Upon  the  marble  slab  was  written : “ Sarah 
Kearney  Lindsay,  Died,  1774” 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 


THE  “ HEAVENLY  BIRTHDAY 

A name  earth  wears  forever  next  her  heart ; 

One  of  the  few  that  have  a right  to  rank 

With  the  true  makers. — Anon. 

The  month  of  February,  1898,  found  me  in  Wash- 
ington City  attending  the  annual  convention  of  the  Na- 
tional American  Woman  Suffrage  Association.  On  en- 
tering the  building  where  the  sessions  were  being  held 
on  February  seventeenth,  a friend  said  to  me : “ Do  you 
know  Miss  Willard  is  dead?  She  passed  away  this 
morning — just  after  midnight.”  On  Saturday  I was  in 
New  York  city,  where  the  funeral  services  were  first  to 
be  held,  accompanied  by  Mrs.  S.  D.  La  Fetra,  former 
president  of  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  of  the  District  of  Columbia. 
My  desire  was  to  see  Anna  Gordon  at  once.  Our  great 
leader  had  entered  into  everlasting  life  from  the  Empire 
Hotel.  As  soon  as  possible  her  remains  had  been  car- 
ried to  the  home  of  her  niece,  Mrs.  Katharine  Willard 
Baldwin,  at  85  Clinton  Place. 

About  dusk,  in  the  face  of  a driving  wind  and  rain- 
storm, we  found  our  way  there.  We  were  invited  into 
a little  sitting-room.  The  door  opened  gently,  and  Mrs. 
Baldwin  entered.  After  a quiet,  but  cordial  greeting, 
she  began  to  tell  us  about  the  going  of  Miss  Willard. 

264 


The  “ Heavenly  Birthday”  265 

“ Her  death  was  very  beautiful,"  she  said;  “ much 
more  beautiful  than  grandmother's,  because  she  was 
younger.  She  looked  like  a little  child — soft  and  sweet. 
At  the  last  she  was  totally  unconscious.  The  departure 
of  her  spirit  was  exceedingly  peaceful.  Her  breath 
went  out  in  three  restful  sobs,  the  last  like  a strain  of 
music,  the  most  exquisite  I ever  heard.  She  lies  in 
there/'  pointing  to  an  adjoining  apartment.  “ Anna 
Gordon  is  to  sleep  in  the  room  with  her  every  night 
until  she  is  taken  away." 

As  we  arose  to  leave,  her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and 
she  exclaimed:  “ I can't  realize  that  Aunt  Frank  is 
dead ! it  seems  so  strange ! " In  the  darkness  we  went 
to  the  Empire  Hotel  to  see  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  women  who 
were  congregated  there.  It  was  a pathetic  company  of 
forlorn  workers.  As  they  sat  or  moved  about,  mournful 
and  helpless,  talking  in  low,  awe-stricken  tones  of  the 
one  dearest  in  all  the  world  to  them,  who  had  gone  up 
higher,  I thought  of  that  little  band  of  disciples  in  the 
long  ago  who  stood  desolate,  gazing  “ steadfastly  to- 
ward heaven  ” after  their  departing  Lord,  and  the 
appearance  of  the  angels  in  their  midst.  The  Comforter 
was  with  us,  too,  that  heart-breaking  night,  and  the 
same  sweet  words  came  sifting  into  our  souls : “ Why 
stand  ye  gazing  up  into  heaven?  This  same  Jesus 
which  is  taken  up  from  you  into  heaven  shall  so  come 
in  like  manner  as  ye  have  seen  him  go  into  heaven ; " 
and  the  blessed  promise  came  with  the  thought:  “ Ye 
shall  receive  power  after  that  the  Holy  Ghost  is  come 
upon  you : and  ye  shall  be  witnesses  unto  me.  . . to  the 
uttermost  part  of  the  earth." 


266 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


As  the  women  talked  the  leading  sentiment  to  which 
they  gave  expression  was We  have  a common  sorrow 
and  a common  joy.  It  is  sweet  for  her  to  ‘ enter  into 
rest/  but  pitiful  for  us  who  stand  in  the  shadow — 
waiting.” 

What  pen  of  men  or  tongue  of  angels  could  summon 
words  sufficiently  strong  or  wise  or  tender  in  which  to 
describe  the  work  and  the  personality  of  this  divinely 
inspired  apostle  of  our  Lord!  Miss  Willard’s  leader- 
ship was  incomparable.  She  had  the  great  power  of 
drawing  more  people  toward  her,  and  of  keeping  them 
bound  by  the  closest  bonds  of  devotion,  than  any  being 
that  ever  lived.  The  secret  of  it  was  that  she  was 
thoroughly  true;  true  to  herself,  true  to  humanity,  to 
which  she  gave  her  best;  true  to  her  heavenly  calling 
and  purpose,  true  to  God.  Miss  Willard  was  a marvel- 
ous orator,  organizer,  author,  statesman,  Christian. 

O,  radiant  spirit,  O,  sinless  soul,  thou  hast  won  thy 
greatest  victory!  Thou  hast  conquered  death  and  en- 
tered upon  the  eternal  verities ! Thou  hast  stood  in  the 
presence  of  the  angels,  and  seen  Christ  face  to  face ! 
“ How  beautiful  it  is  to  be  with  God.” 

For  over  nine  years  Miss  Willard  had  been  more  to 
me  than  any  woman  who  lived,  except  my  mother.  She 
was  the  leading  inspiration  of  my  life.  She  was  never 
too  busy  to  be  loving,  never  too  tired  to  be  interested  in 
those  who  followed  the  white  ribbon  banner,  uplifted  by 
her  devoted  hands.  In  all  the  care-filled  days  of  her 
wonderful  life  she  took  time  to  send  words  of  cheer  and 
assurances  of  loyalty  and  appreciation  for  the  smallest 


The  “ Heavenly  Birthday”  267 

thing  done  for  Christ  and  humanity.  On  her  way  to 
England  she  sent  the  following  back  to  me, — only  a 
word  of  remembrance  but  invaluable  as  her  words : 

“ U.  S.  M.  S. 4 NEW  YORK  ’ 

/ 2 . /fff 

'U&  : 


268 


A Slaveholder’s  Daughter 


On  hearing  of  her  death  I felt  that  one  of  the  founda- 
tions of  my  existence  had  slipped  from  under  me  and 
had  drifted  out  to  sea.  Miss  Willard  was  like  no  other 
human  being.  There  was  a divineness  about  her  and  a 
personal  influence  that  no  one  else  possessed.  There 
will  be  many  leaders,  and  great  ones,  but  the  world  will 
never  see  just  such  a “ chieftain  ” among  women  as 
Frances  E.  Willard.  The  great  organization  that  grew 
to  marvelous  proportions  under  her  matchless  guidance 
has  lost  its  ablest  champion,  the  individuals  who  loved 
her  their  tenderest  friend.  After  her  death  Lady  Henry 
Somerset  wrote  in  a personal  letter,  “ It  seems  to  me 
sometimes  that  the  work  that  lies  ahead  and  the  loneli- 
ness of  life  are  almost  impossible  to  face ; but  the  same 
Love  that  has  cared  for  her  and  taken  her  to  dwell  in 
the  Land  where  all  is  Love  will  encompass  us  and  bring 
us  at  last  to  the  haven  where  we  would  be,  and  where 
she  is  at  rest.”  These  heart  testimonials  have  been  writ- 
ten in  the  quietude  of  my  old  plantation  home,  in  blessed 
communion  with  God  and  in  sweet  fellowship  with 
mother  and  father,  my  best  friends  and  loyal,  loving 
comrades,  standing  now  in  the  sunset  glow  of  the  even- 
ing of  their  lives : 

“ Only  waiting  tiil  the  shadows  are  a little  longer 
grown,”  when  their  souls, 

“ A glorious  bridge  will  make 
Out  of  the  golden  bars, 

And  all  their  precious  treasures  take 
Where  shine  the  eternal  stars.” 

With  the  dawn  of  the  untried  years  beaming 


The  “Heavenly  Birthday”  269 

full  upon  me,  through  the  swiftly  opening  gates  of  the 
twentieth  century,  here  among  the  palm  trees  of  Flor- 
ida, its  blossoms,  its  song-birds,  its  radiant  sunshine, 
where  my  work  has  brought  me  in  this  year  of 
grace,  1900,  I consecrate  myself  anew  to  God, 
and  cry  as  fervently  as  when  the  call  of  the 
Master  first  came  to  my  life,  over  a decade  ago, 
“ Here  am  I,  Lord.  Send  me ! 99  give  me  strength  of 
body  and  mind  and  spirit  to  work  for  the  incoming  of 
Thy  Kingdom  when  not  a being  in  all  the  world  shall 
ask,  through  ignorance,  “ Who  is  Jesus  of  Nazareth?  ” 
when  the  gentleness  of  Christ  shall  supersede  the  in- 
humanity of  man;  when  every  institution  is  banished 
which  causeth  a tear  or  maketh  a lie ; when  every  law 
is  so  modified  that  no  child  shall  cry  for  the  loss  of  its 
birthright,  nor  a man  mourn  for  his  broken  life,  nor  a 
woman  weep  for  the  possession  of  her  heritage. 

“ I know  not  what  the  future  hath 
Of  marvel  or  surprise, 

Assured  alone  that  life  and  death 
His  mercy  underlies. 

“ And  so  beside  the  Silent  Sea 
I wait  the  muffled  oar; 

No  harm  from  him  can  come  to  me 
On  ocean  or  on  shore.” 


THE  END. 


THE 


Bbbcy  press 

114 

FIFTH  AVENUE 
NEW  YORK 


ANNOUNCEMENTS 


May  be  ordered  through 
any  bookseller  or  will  be 
mailed  free  for  the  pub= 
lished  price 

1 


AUTHORS  AND  ARTISTS 


Collins,  Wilkie. 
Cruikshank,  George,  Jr. 

De  Mezailles,  Jean. 
Dickens,  Cliarles. 
Drummond,  Henry. 
Flattery,  M.  Douglas* 
Gardner,  W.  H. 

Graham,  Marie. 

Hamilton,  Sam  A. 

Hamm,  Margherita  Arlina. 
Hartt,  Irene  Widdemer. 
Howard,  Rady  Constance. 
Jennings,  Edwin  B. 
Johnson,  Stanley  Edwards. 
Jokai,  Maurus. 

Raven,  E.  Thomas. 
Kearney,  Belle. 


Kent,  Charles. 
Mankowski,  Mary  D. 
Martyn,  Carlos. 

Miller,  Andrew  J. 

Munn,  Charles  Clark. 
Napoliello,  R.  R. 

Palier,  Emile  A. 

Parke s,  Harry. 

Pash,  Florence. 

Rideal,  Charles  F. 
Runyan,  N.  P. 

Scribner,  Kimball. 
Stevenson,  Robert  Eouis. 
Tabor,  Edward  A. 
Tolstoy,  Count. 

Walker,  Jessie  A. 
Winter,  C.  Gordon. 


2 


ADVERTISING  AGENTS’  DIRECTORY,  THE. 

Arranged  alphabetically  and  in  States,  including 
Great  Britain  and  Canada.  Nothing  of  this 
kind  has  ever  before  appeared.  All  who  for 
any  reason  wish  to  know  who  the  advertising 
agents  are  and  how  they  may  be  reached,  will 
find  the  desired  information  here.  The  Directory 
is  brought  down  strictly  to  date.  Cloth.  One 
Dollar. 

AMERICAN  ELOQUENCE. 

Characteristic  Types  from  Colonial  Times  to  the 
Present  Day.  A Text  Book  of  Oratory.  By 
Carlos  Martyn. 

AMERICAN  MEN  OF  THE  TIME. 

Being  a Dictionary  of  Biographical  Records  of 
Eminent  Men  of  the  Day.  Revised  to  date  and 
edited  by  Charles  F.  Rideal,  Fellow  of  the  Royal 
Society  of  Literature. 

AMERICAN  WOMEN  OF  THE  TIME. 

Being  a Dictionary  of  Biographical  Records  of 
Eminent  Living  Women.  Revised  to  date  and 
edited  by  Charles  F.  Rideal,  Fellow  of  the  Royal 
Society  of  Literature.  It  is  the  first  time  a book 
of  reference  of  this  kind  has  been  compiled  in  the 
interests  of  any  women  in  any  country.  The  ef- 
forts of  the  publishers  will  be  directed  towards 
the  end  of  securing  a standard  work,  founded  on 
reliable  data,  and  which  will  be  a suitable  addi- 
tion to  any  bookshelf. 

CHARLES  DICKENS’  HEROINES  AND  WOMEN 
FOLK. 

Some  Thoughts  Concerning  Them.  A Revised 
Lecture.  By  Charles  F.  Rideal,  with  drawings 
of  “Dot”  and  “Edith  Dombey,”  by  Florence 
Pash.  Third  Edition.  Cloth.  Twenty-five  Cents. 

“A  delightful  little  book.” — Institute. 

3 


CHARLES  DICKENS  READER  AND  RECITER, 
THE. 

For  the  Home,  School  and  Platform.  Compiled 
with  an  introduction  by  Charles  F.  Rideal,  Fel- 
low of  the  Royal  Society  of  Literature.  For- 
merly member  of  the  Council  of  the  Lecturers’ 
Institute  of  Great  Britain.  Author  of  “ Weller  - 
isms,”  “ Charles  Dickens’  Heroines  and  Women 
Folk,”  etc. 


CHURCH  WORKER  S BOOK. 

One  Thousand  Plans.  By  as  Many  Successful 
Clergymen  and  Other  Christian  Workers.  By 
Carlos  Martyn. 


CONTINENTAL  CAYALIER,  A. 

By  Kimball  Scribner.  Author  of  “The  Honor 
of  a Princess,”  (twenty -third  thousand),  “The 
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contributes  one  more  (and  not  the  least)  to  the 
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times.  His  characters  are  resurrections  and  in 
them  the  past  lives  again.  Mr.  Kimball  Scribner 
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CURIOUS  CASE  OF  GENERAL  DELANEY  SMYTHF, 
THE. 

By  W.  H.  Gardner,  Lieutenant-Colonel  U.  S.  A. 
( retired) . Not  in  many  years  has  a more  interest- 
ing or  mysterious  story  appeared  than  this.  Those 
who  follow  the  fortunes  of  General  Delaney 
Smythe  will  certainly  corroborate  this  statement. 
The  book  will  have  a wide  and  permanent  sale. 
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Cloth.  One  Dollar. 


4 


THE  SALESLADY.  From  “Some  People  We  Meet 


5 


CROSS  OF  HONOR,  THE 

A Military  Dramalette  in  One  Act.  By  Charles 
F.  Rideal  and  C.  Gordon  Winter  (Jean  de  Me- 
zailles).  Very  daintily  printed  and  bound.  One 
Dollar 

HANGER  SIGNALS  FOR  NEW  CENTURY  MAN- 
HOOD. 

By  Edward  A.  Tabor.  Is  a masterly  discussion 
of  the  dangers  that  confront  the  individual  as 
well  as  the  society  of  to-day  in  the  United  States. 
It  is  also  a beautiful  portraiture  of  the  young 
manhood  which  should  exist  in  the  20th  century. 
Including  photograph  and  biographical  sketch  of 
the  author.  12mo,  cloth  bound,  816  pages.  One 
Dollar. 

DEVOUT  BLUEBEARD,  A. 

By  Marie  Graham.  This  is  a keen,  satirical  story 
which  hits  off  foibles  and  humbugs  in  religious 
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DRY  TOAST. 

Some  Thoughts  upon  Some  Subjects  not  generally 
dealt  with.  By  Charles  F.  Rideal. 

Contents: — A Piece  of  the  Crust;  Brains  and 
Black  Butter;  On  the  Mending  of  the  Bellows; 
On  Backbone,  or  rather  the  Want  of  It;  Some 
Phases  of  Modern  Honesty ; On  Giving  Advice — 
and  Taking  It;  Concerning  “Hums”;  On  Flap- 
doodle— the  Thick  and  the  Thin ; On  Cranks ; On 
Pouring  Cold  Water;  On  the  Art  of  Making  One- 
self Uncomfortable;  On  Always  Doing  Some- 
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6 


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Being  a List  of  those  Ladies  who  have  Qualified 
in  Medicine  and  Surgery,  and  who  are  Officially 
Registered  as  such,  with  Statistical  and  General 
Information  of  Universities,  Colleges,  Hospitals, 
etc. 

FROM  CLOUDS  TO  SUNSHINE ; 

or,  The  Evolution  of  a Soul,  by  E.  Thomas  Kaven. 
Author  of  “ A Duel  of  Wits,”  etc.  Cloth,  12mo, 
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GEMS  OF  JEWISH  ORATORY. 

A selection  from  the  finest  specimens  of  Jewish 
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Madison  C.  Peters.  Author  of  “ Justice  to  the 
Jew,”  etc. 

GEMS  OF  JEWISH  PROSE. 

A selection  from  the  finest  authors  of  Jewish 
prose ; together  with  an  introduction.  By  Madi- 
son C.  Peters.  Author  of  “Justice  to  the  Jew.” 

GEMS  OF  JEWISH  TERSE. 

A selection  from  the  finest  authors  of  Jewish 
poetry ; together  with  an  introduction.  By  Madi- 
son C.  Peters.  Author  of  “Justice  to  the  Jew,” 
etc. 

GREATEST  THING  IN  THE  WORLD,  THE. 

By  Henry  Drummond. 

HAUNTS  OF  KIPLING. 

Fully  illustrated.  A complete  history  and  de- 
scription of  all  the  localities  described  by  Rud- 
yard  Kipling  in  his  works.  By  Margherita 
Arlina  Hamm  and  Charles  F.  Rideal. 

HOUSE  OF  A TRAITOR,  THE. 

By  Prosper  Merimee. 

7 


HOW  AND  WHAT  TO  WRITE. 

A book  for  authors ; with  some  practical  hints  on 
Journalism;  together  with  a chapter  on  illus- 
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HOW  SUCCESS  IS  WON; 

or,  the  Fight  in  Life.  With  Celebrated  Illustra- 
tions. Drawn  from  Life  by  Carlos  Marty n.  In 
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INTELLECTUAL  PEOPLE. 

By  William  Adolphus  Clark.  Since  most  readers 
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INTERNATIONAL  DIRECTORY  OF  AUTHORS,  THE. 
With  a full  list  of  the  titles  of  their  works,  dates 
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Charles  F.  Rideal. 

LAST  OF  THE  MUSKETEERS. 

A Novel  founded  on  the  Romantic  Career  of 
General  de  Gallifet,  French  Minister  of  War.  By 
Carlos  Marty n. 

LITERARY  LIFE. 

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LITTLE  SCARECROW,  THE. 

By  Maurus  Jokai. 


9 


LODGING  IN  THE  NIGHT,  A. 

By  Robert  Louis  Stevenson.  This  is  the  first 
time  that  this  celebrated  story  has  been  produced 
in  a manner  worthy  of  the  reputation  of  its 
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LOYE  AND  PRIDE. 

By  R.  R.  Napoiiello.  This  novel  admirably  por- 
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LOVE’S  RANDOM  SHOT. 

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MAGISTRACY,  THE. 

Being  a Directory  and  Biographical  Dictionary 
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Compiled  and  edited  by  Charles  F.  Rideal. 

MASTER  AND  MAN. 

By  Count  Tolstoy. 

MORE  PEOPLE  WE  MEET. 

By  Charles  F.  Rideal.  Illustrated  by  Mark  Zang- 
will,  etc.  A limited  edition  of  signed  and  num- 
bered copies  at  One  Dollar. 

NURSES  WE  MEET. 

Some  piquant  Pictures.  By  Charles  F.  Rideal. 
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10 


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12 


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SERMONXC  SILHOUETTES. 

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SLAVEHOLDER’S  DAUGHTER,  A. 

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13 


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WELLERISMS 

from  “Pickwick”  and  “Master  Humphrey’s 
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that  it  shows  a mastery  of  fine  work  and  detail, 
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tion to  Dickensiana  and  every  lover  and  admirer 
of  Charles  Dickens  should  possess  a copy. 

14 


WHEN  AT  HOME  AND  SOCIETY  GUIDE. 

Giving  Days  when' 4 At  Home”  of  the  Upper 
Classes.  Compiled  and  edited  by  Charles  F. 
Rideal.  To  which  is  added  a chapter  on  the 
Etiquette  of  Calls  and  Calling.  By  Lady  Con- 
stance Howard.  Each  Season. 

WIDOWS  WE  MEET. 

Twelve  of  Them.  Brief,  pithy  characterizations 
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YOUNG  GENTLEMEN  OF  TO-DAY. 

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illustrated. 

ZENITH  MEMO-PAD,  THE. 

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may  be  kept  on  the  table  or  suspended  against 
the  wall  or  bookshelf,  whichever  may  be  most 
convenient,  and  in  either  position  it  is  handy,  and 
takes  up  but  a small  amount  of  space.” — Queen. 


15 


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